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faulty-writes · 4 years

Note

A scenario where Tamaki's been trying to confess to his crush for literal MONTHS but just can't ever get it out. Since his voice doesn't work around reader he decides to write a letter, penning down his innermost passions and it ends up being REALLY long with flowery Helga Pataki-esque descriptions of his feelings. But he ends up EATING the paper to prevent reader from seeing it when yn almost sees it. Later that dayduring training, his quirk manifest forces him to say everything he wrote aloud.

[ Finally your girl posts something after forever. Sorry guys! Life has been a bit crazy, I got obsessed with a couple role play groups, and of course, school. But, I’ll try to be better with my blog. I hope you all enjoy this Tamaki piece, thank you for the request dear anon! I thought this idea was a very unique take on Tamaki’s quirk. ]

There you go again. His eyes locked on your every move as you walked through the hallway, your friends by your side, and you were laughing and smiling. Making his heart accelerate and his cheeks flush as always. It was true, Tamaki Amajiki. One of the members that made up The Big Three, had fallen for you. Unfortunately, despite trying to confess to you countless times.

It did no good. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was thinking. He’d always be nervous when he approached you, cheeks red, and that stutter of his present. Even when he did finally manage to speak, he’d find his tongue felt like it was swollen, then he’d get more embarrassed and panic. Despite the fact, you would always ask him what’s wrong or if he needed help.

The fact is, he was nothing but a coward. He’d turn and run which didn’t help much with his confidence considering he knew that you probably thought he was some kind of a freak. But, he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you with someone else which might sound selfish. He knew it was selfish but, he didn’t care. He wanted you all to himself and for once, maybe he deserved what he wanted.

But, he didn’t know how to tell you. How could he reveal his feelings to you without looking silly or fearing rejection? There was only one person he thought of asking, “Well!” Nejire’s voice was as bright and cheery as ever as they sat outside a cafe. Nejire had insisted because they had good lattes and Tamaki was never one to argue.

She smiled as she reached over to place her hand over his, the warmth and comfort from that gentle touch put him at ease for the moment. But, still, he needed an answer on what to do and eagerly waited to hear what Nejire had to say. “If you ask me, nothing says I love you more than the words of a love letter!” Tamaki’s expression completely dropped, his eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“W-What?” he questioned, he could already feel his stomach twist. That nauseous feeling of butterflies beginning to bother him, his cheeks grew unusually hot and he shook his head. “I c-can’t d-do that!” he stuttered out as his free hand tightened around the styrofoam cup he held. Nejire looked at him with a cross expression.

“They don’t have to know who it’s from silly!” she half scolded, “Besides maybe it’ll help you sort out what you really want to say to them!” she suggested with a bright smile that made Tamaki groan in response. “I c-can’t! T-That’s so e-embarrassing and w-what if t-they find out the l-letter was f-from me!? W-What am I s-supposed to do?! W-What am I supposed t-to say?” he questioned and Nejire shook her head before slowly getting up from her seat.

“Well duh!” she said before reaching over to lightly knock on Tamaki’s head, something that caught his attention but also made him flinch. He leaned back with a present frown on his face, “D-Duh what?” he asked, growing a little scared as she leaned over. He didn’t exactly like that smile on her face. “Then you have nothing left to hide,” she concluded as she reached up to boop his nose which made him wiggle it in response.

He then looked down, nervous eyes shifting back and forth, “I...I d-don’t know,” he said which had Nejire sighing and she placed her hands on her hips. “Just start with the love letter and see where it goes from there, you may not believe it Amajiki, but you’re pretty brave when you’re determined,” she said before patting his shoulder. “Don’t forget that,” she said, smiling yet again before she walked away.

Leaving him sitting there alone, his body hunched over the table as a gentle breeze came to ruffle his hair. Should he try to write you a love letter? Sure it sounded easy, but what if he got nervous and ended up writing the wrong thing? Was there a right or wrong way to write something as personal as a love letter? Your feelings across paper? Well, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So he purchased a notebook and pen and began to get to work, at first he found it rather difficult. His words were sloppy and lacking the meaningful nature he wanted them to. But, on occasion, this would change. Especially when he saw you in the hallway or in class, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of inspiration and would always write the words that screamed from his heart when he was near your presence.

He often rewrote the confessions he had, longing for them to be perfect. He was almost finished with what he believed to be the perfect love letter and though he was still unsure how he’d give it to you. He was currently sitting in the library, body hunched over the table as he neared the end of his letter. All that was left were those three big words, the words he was too shy to speak.

But, the ones that he longed to scream from the top of his lungs, the ones that could only be used to summarize how he felt about you. His pen continued to glide across the lined paper, prepared to write ‘I love you’ before he jumped. You had noticed Tamaki around and while you knew he was a member of The Big Three, you had never actually had a full conversation with him.

Though you had class together and on occasion, you got the chance to fight side by side with him. He was amazing and you admired him for the heroism he showed, it was almost silly to think he was the same shy boy you saw roaming through the halls. You had always wanted to try and become friends with him, given you knew from past experience he tended to stutter and honestly couldn’t hold up a conversation.

Still, you were determined to try. Of course, you hadn’t expected him to jump when you spotted him in the library and decided to walk over. You noticed he was writing something and couldn’t help but try and sneak a peek at it, looked pretty serious. You blinked before lowering your mouth to his adorable elf-like ear. “Hi Amajiki-san!” the cry that left his mouth ended up scaring you and without thinking.

You stumbled back and watched as his head turned, those precious indigo-colored eyes wide and fearful and his cheeks dusted over a faint red. “Y-Y/n!?” he exclaimed before pulling the notebook to his chest, fingers securely grasping it. Hiding the written evidence of his feelings for you, despite you having no knowledge of his feelings for you in the first place or how he was trying to convey them through written words.

You did, however, know he was hiding something and couldn’t help but smirk. “Hm?” you raised your hand, pointing a finger at the notebook. “What are you trying to hide there, Amajiki-san?” you questioned as you took a step closer, reaching out to grab his upper arm. You tugged on his sleeve and Tamaki let out a soft whine. “N-Nothing! I-It’s nothing!” he stuttered out, feeling his stomach twist into knots.

He hoped he wouldn’t get nauseous, you were so close. You were touching him! “Oh? If it’s nothing then why are you hiding it?” you questioned in a teasing manner as you took a firmer grip and yanked his arm away. “Show me, I’m curious! Is it a project? Essay?!” the questions left your mouth in an excited manner. “I-It’s not uh, h-hey!” you had reached over and snatched the notebook away.

“Oh boo, let me at least proofread it for you,” Tamaki’s stomach flipped upside down and his hand was clutching his chest, twisting the fabric of the signature red tie of his school uniform. He couldn't let you read it! He’d die! But there you were, holding his notebook with his dedicated words of love scribbled across it. “Now then,” you turned your attention to the notebook, about to read the first line just as the sound of a chair falling came.

You jumped and turned to look but before you could react you felt a strong hand around your wrist. “Amajiki-san!” you exclaimed, prepared to activate your quirk or at least find your way out of his grip. But then, another noise echoed through the air. Your attention shifted back to the notebook and your jaw dropped as you realized he had ripped out the single page you were trying to read.

“Amajiki!” you scolded again, “S-Sorry! B-But you c-can’t see t-this!” he said as he proceeded to crumble the paper into a ball. You looked at him bewildered as he then shoved said ball into his mouth. “Uh…” was the only sound that managed to come out of your mouth as you watched him chew and proceed to swallow the paper. You blinked, lowering the notebook.

Jaw hanging open in absolute awe at what you had just witnessed. Tamaki on the other hand had an itchy throat, and when the crumbled paper reached his stomach. He felt a small ache, which prompted him to place a hand over his stomach. His face was completely red, all the way to the pointy tips of his ears. “G-God, that w-was e-embarrassing u-uh…” he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

He did, however, reach out to snatch his notebook back. The action caused you to gasp and you took a step back, your mind still trying to process what had just occurred. Damn, was it that much of a secret he had to eat it? What sense did that make? Still, you watched as he took the notebook and put everything into his backpack before scurrying away. Strange.

You knew you’d see him in just a few moments, given you had class and hero training together. But, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to see him after he pulled such a strange stunt. “Uh...okay, bye then?” you said, clearly still confused despite the fact he was long gone. You placed your hands on your hips and sighed. “Well, wonder if I’ll see anything stranger than that today,” you shrugged and exited the library.

It was almost a nightmare trying to sit through class, much less pay attention to the lesson. It didn’t help that you sat near Tamaki either, but he seemed to give you the cold shoulder. Not so much as dare to take a glance at you, though you happened to notice his hand was over his stomach. Maybe he had a stomach ache, though after consuming a whole piece of paper splattered with ink.

It didn’t surprise you much, if at all. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder just what he had to hide. When afternoon came, you seemed to have forgotten about the strange incident as soon as you slipped on your hero attire. You grinned as you walked alongside your classmates to Ground Gamma, given you couldn’t help but glance over at Tamaki.

He was currently talking to Nejire, but you noticed his face was twisted in some form of discomfort. “Y/n...Y/n!!!” you snapped out of your thoughts before turning to face one of your classmates. “Huh? What?” it was a little shameful you had zoned out, but even so. The teachers had decided that instead of team exercises, you’d be facing each other one on one.

This disappointed you as you rather enjoyed working with your classmates to form tactical strategies and such, but it was important for heroes to learn how to work on their own as well. The who versus whom opponents were randomized as to assure fairness and the element of surprise, you were hoping you’d be one of the first students to show your skills in combat.

But, unfortunately, you weren’t and much like the other student heroes in training, you had to stand back and observe. Though you found yourself growing bored and decided to take a seat on the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest and sporting a dull expression. You glanced over at Tamaki once more, taking note that he was still holding his stomach and Nejire was patting his shoulder.

You assumed she was telling him he was fine. As the second pair of students finished their training exercise, you leaned back and gave a loud yawn which seemed to catch your teacher’s attention. “Y/n,” they said and you turned to look at them with a raised eyebrow, but answered nonetheless. “Yes?” you replied, “Since you seem so bored, I’ll give you a task. Next match, Suneater verse Y/n!” your eyes widened and you sported a dumbfounded expression.

“W-What?” you questioned and your teacher merely smirked at you, was that even legal? You knew your teachers were also pro heroes and as such, should be respected. But, sometimes you couldn’t help but question their teaching methods. Your classmates seemed rather surprised, whispering how lucky you were to be facing a member of The Big Three and how you’d more than likely get your ass kicked.

Tamaki didn’t seem to take the news very well either, in fact, his face twisted into what you could only describe as pure fear. “Uh, I d-don’t think-” he tried to protest, but the teacher cut him off quickly and ordered you two to start at opposite ends of the training ground. You looked to Tamaki and shrugged, “May the best student win?” once you had taken your position among the twisted landscape of metal piping.

You crouched down, going through strategies that could possibly give you an advantage. You wouldn’t let the fact he was a member of The Big Three bother you, even though this all boiled down to one thing. You had to try your best, with that in mind. You decided to lay low and take a running start, keeping your eyes and ears open for Tamaki.

Carefully avoiding those obnoxious pipes in your way before you heard a noise. It was just a small creek, but you knew better than to believe it was just Ground Gamma settling. You stopped briefly, legs bent and ready to make an escape if you needed to. You stared into the abyss of metal before suddenly a tentacle shot out toward you, but a quick dodge saved you from being captured and you took off.

Slithering between big and small pipes alike before you decide to ricochet between two of them, angling your body so you landed on top of a sturdy pipe. You quickly turned on your feet, glancing over the landscape once more. Your eyes searching for any sight or sign of Tamaki, you also had to be aware those tentacles of his could be trouble. With that idea, you quickly looked down.

Ensuring there was no sight of those powerful octopus arms, you then opted to travel above the pipes. Easily jumping from one to the next, your head turning back and forth despite the fact that wind was ruffling your hair and causing your bangs to sway in your face. But, it was quiet. Everything was so quiet which it shouldn’t be, Tamaki’s steps couldn’t be that silent, unless...he wasn’t on the ground.

Your eyes widened at the realization and from the corner of your eye, you saw a single brown feather. “Oh no,” you turned your head as a shadow cast over you. Instantly, your jaw dropped as you saw him. Tamaki, Suneater, the best of the best. Right above you, brown wings spread to their span. His right hand was morphed into long tentacles and his left shaped into a clamshell.

Before you could blink, those wings flapped and the next thing you recalled was a hard hit to your stomach. It threw you off balance and you fell a good few feet before reaching the ground. Pain surged through your person and a long groan escaped you. Every fiber of your being was screaming for you to get back up, but you were too slow. You heard Tamaki land behind you, but he said nothing as he approached you.

Which at the moment, was scary even though he was normally a quiet and reserved person. However, you yelped when you felt those tentacles proceed to wrap around you, binding your arms by your sides. Your quirk was useless without the movement of your hands and knowing that simple fact, you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. It seemed Tamaki had to add insult to injury as you felt the pressure of his enlarged chicken foot against your back.

“I think...y-you’re...done…” came his words, seems he was always a tad braver when he was Suneater which made sense. You turned your head as much as you could, sending a glare toward him. You were usually better than this, but to get bested this quickly. It only reminded you of how much further you had to go before you could truly call yourself a hero.

“Suneater…” you hissed out, flexing your arms as you attempted to get out of his grip. Tamaki however, felt his stomach twist again and his face once more showed discomfort. Maybe eating that letter was a bad idea. It certainly wasn’t settling in his stomach right, and his heart was racing at an unusual speed. But, he felt a strange sense of happiness course through his body as well.

“Y/n, I think you’re my love,” a gasp left his mouth and you felt those tentacles retract. You pressed your hand to the ground, now looking at Tamaki with a wide-eyed expression. “W-What?” you questioned, wondering if you heard him correctly. But, judging by the way he was holding his hands over his mouth and how red his face was turning.

You assumed you had indeed heard the words he had spoken correctly. He took a step back and you noticed his wings were disappearing, was his quirk so consciously controlled that when he was distracted by overwhelming emotions it became faulty? You were more than certain that if the teachers and fellow hero students were still watching, they would be confused as to why Tamaki had let you go.

You slowly rose to your feet, though your body. Mostly your ribs coursed with a dull ache which had you grasping your side. Your eyes were locked on Tamaki as he shook his head and took a step back, his hands tightened around his mouth to prevent it from opening again. But, it was no good. His jaw ached and he couldn’t stop himself, painfully he opened his mouth and more confusing words spilled.

“I...have...been watching you...for so long! I see...you in the...h-halls...and I…” his body went tense as he forced his jaw closed once more, teeth pressing tightly together. What was happening? He had no idea, but he needed to be quiet or else. Oh God, was this because he had eaten the confession he wrote? Your jaw was hanging open, unsure of how to process the words he was speaking.

First, he ate a piece of paper, now this? You took a step back when Tamaki stepped forward, “Uh, T-Tamaki, are you okay?” you questioned before he opened his mouth once more, his eyes watering over which concerned you all the more. “I...f-freeze! You’re the one...p-plaguing...my t-thoughts, my desires…I,” Tamaki’s jaw clenched once more and he leaned over, his hands curling into fists.

“I w-want you...my l-love,” your heart began to pound in your chest, being called ‘my love’ by Tamaki of all people. Well, it was sweet. But, you couldn’t ignore the fact this was clearly not a willing confession. Something was making him speak against his will, maybe his quirk? His voice was strained and breathless which only furthered your assumption he was truly fighting with himself.

“I...long...t-to hold…y-you! My darling...and b-be your hero, to c-cradle and protect...y-you!” his body was trembling as he raised his hand, fingers spread out and palm facing toward you. Your eyes shifted to that hand, eyebrows furrowing together. “Uh...Tamaki,” you said, though you were tempted to take that hand. “I long...t-to be yours!” he stumbled forward, his face was hot and he could feel droplets of sweat fall from his person.

The fact his cheeks were completely red was a good indication he was embarrassed by what he was saying which caused you to frown. You planted your feet on the ground, knowing that you couldn’t exactly run away or restrain him in his current state in order to win. That wasn’t a fair fight and in addition, you knew heroes don’t run from those in need.

However, it seemed even in his...current abnormal state. He was still in control of some of the aspects of his quirk, in fact, before you could properly react. Those tentacles were around one of your arms, the suction cups digging into your skin and taking firm grip. “Amajiki!” you took a step back, trying to pull your arm out of his grip. But, it was no use as you just got pulled forward again.

“AMAJIKI,” you warned again, going as far as to reach over and begin to claw at those tentacles. The sound of your shoes scraping against the metal ground wasn’t exactly comforting, neither was the fact you knew you were going to lose this small struggle. “I w-want to be your husband...one day! Scream your name...f-from the rooftops! My love...my one and o-only!” you shook your head, now growing afraid of the shy reserved boy.

Especially when he finally pulled you forward, causing you to shriek. Your hand was out as you collided with his chest and you immediately felt the pressure of his arm against your lower back. His nails digging into your hip which made you hiss. But he continued to speak, “Just let me h-hold you and soak y-your body in! M-Melt together in a beautiful...ember of love and j-joy,” you blinked, trying to jerk your body out of his grip.

But, it was of little use. He leaned over and you shivered when you felt the soft skin of his face bury itself into your hair. “You are...my w-whole world…” he sucked in a breath, still fighting but it was beginning to hurt. His stomach felt heavy, too weighed down. He needed to say everything, “Fear and c-courage, the one...s-sole purpose in my life...i-is you,” the words were mumbled slightly and he lifted his head.

“I won’t g-give up. I’ll f-fight the army that holds m-my love hostage, I want you to be...m-mine,” your eyes widened and you wanted to tilt your head up and look at him, but you were almost afraid to. “My l-love and my heart, the one...I w-wish to worship. D-Drop to my knees...a-and kiss your skin,” he choked out and you could feel those tentacles loosen around you.

“Tamaki…?” his name came out of your mouth in a soft whisper and you finally lifted your head to look at him. His face was still twisted, a painful expression spread across it and you gasped as he leaned close. You were taken back by the intense expression that danced in his eyes and your face began to grow red. “I want t-to set up a s-shrine...pray to your p-powerful aura,” this was just getting weird, but somehow you knew it was the truth which made it even scarier.

You were tempted to run when those tentacles finally retracted, but you didn’t have time to even think about such as Tamaki’s hand now gently took hold of your chin. You felt a lump form in your throat as you found yourself staring into Tamaki’s eyes. “Forever...m-more...until the end of my...d-days...I...” he suddenly stopped and his breath hitched.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. However, you let out another shriek when Tamaki suddenly dropped to the ground. You stumbled back, not having expected such a thing. The sound of his panting filled the air and you watched as he reached up and ran his hand through his hair. Such didn’t help the sweat that covered his person and your eyebrows furrowed once more.

“I...Amajiki, are you...I mean...everything you said...was it…” you were almost afraid to ask and took a sharp breath which caused a shooting pain to course through your ribs. You latched onto your lip to prevent yourself from hissing and Tamaki slowly lifted his head to look at you. His eyes full of horror and regret, “I...I…” he wasn’t sure what to say, what could he say?

He wasn’t entirely sure what made him say what he did, every word he spoke was in his letter. Did eating it make an effect on his quirk? He groaned and covered his face, saying no more before he took off running in the opposite direction. It took you a moment to fully realize the Big Three member was indeed making a run for it, “Amajiki, wait!” you called out, your hand outstretched in his direction.

Your teachers and fellow students who witnessed this odd interaction were currently scratching their heads, trying to piece together what could have possibly happened to cause one of the top students to run with his tail between his legs. But, the fact you were being watched through this whole exercise was the last thing on your mind.

You couldn’t help but run after Amajiki, your feet pounding against the metal flooring of Ground Gamma. While you had lost sight of him, you knew there was only one place he could have gone. To the end of the training ground where the exit was located, though you weren’t as fast as Tamaki which caused some anxiety as you hoped he’d be where you thought he was.

When you reached the location of the exit, you leaned over with your hands on your knees. The sound of your soft panting filled the air before you wiped your brow. Your jaw then clenched as you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ribs, the exit to Ground Gamma was a large hallway with very dim lighting. In a way, it made you uneasy seeing Tamaki there.

Despite being dressed in his hero attire, he was facing the wall. His forehead pressed against it and you could tell he was trembling, you had known Tamaki to do this exact thing. Given the fact he was rather shy and suffered from anxiety, you frowned and slowly approached him. “Amajiki,” you said, your voice was soft. But, that didn’t stop the fact that Tamaki ducked his head.

You reached your hand out, wanting to touch him but you decided against it for now. You took a deep breath, “Um, so…” you reached up, scratching the side of your temple. Where would you even begin? “I’m not sure...what that was but...did you mean it? Everything you said?” Tamaki wanted to smack his head against the wall, your question left his stomach twisting with butterflies.

Honestly, part of him wished his heart would stop as opposed to continue to pound inside his chest. Of course, everything he said was the truth as terribly spoken and previously written down as it was. He honestly didn’t know what he was doing. In fact, he had never written a love letter before and though he had made countless drafts. It seemed he just wasn’t talented enough to write such romantic words on paper.

“Mm…” is the only way he managed to respond to you. “Mm? Amajiki…” you paused and decided to finally reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder. However, he seemed to shy away from your touch. Shuffling to the side, you let out a sigh and lowered your hand. A friendly touch wouldn’t do anything in this case and you didn’t know the other Big Three members well enough to ask them how to properly handle Tamaki when he got like this.

You’d feel bad if you left him all alone, but it didn’t seem as though he wanted your company at the current moment. You glanced down, hearing the sound of wind echo through the open exit way. You turned your head to look around, you knew you couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

Else your teacher would begin to look for you or another verse competition would start. “Amajiki…” you said yet again, allowing your hands to rest by your sides. “Regardless if...what you said was true or not, I think we need to leave an-” before you could say anything more.

Tamaki had turned and began to sprint away and it honestly made your heart sink. You watched him disappear from view again and let out a sigh, maybe you’d confront him about it later. But, if what he said was true. Well, you’d need to figure out how you felt about it.

#tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #bnha reader insert

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: Difficult

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: He considers for a moment and then pulls it over the back of Caleb’s head, leaving his arms dangling loosely in the taut pull of the fabric. “Be good or I’ll tickle you again.”

It’s something he’d say to one of his siblings, and it gets an equally petulant response - Caleb growls, elbows flailing as he tries to break free of his shirt prison. “Caduceus.”

Difficult. Caduceus eyes the bare and probably-ticklish - and currently burnt up - expanse of Caleb’s exposed torso and makes a decision.

Wordcount: 2.4k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt!

---

Caduceus likes to think he’s pretty immune to nonsense, as things go - growing up with three siblings will have that effect - but that doesn’t mean he’s not frustrated when certain people decide that they’re going to walk away from a we-barely-survived-a-dimension-with-a-dragon-in-it healing circle.

Still, he knows how these things go. He sees everyone off to bed and reminds himself to come up with some tea for Beau later. He pulls thick green stalks of succulents from his pack, grateful that he’d thought to wrap most of his herbs up in oilcloth before his time with the group took a decidedly nautical turn, and crushes them methodically into paste before stirring in some warm oil and beeswax. He hums a quick prayer to the Wildmother, asking for the same patience it took not to sneak something annoying into Clarabelle’s food when she started putting worms in his bed at night.

Then, he goes to find Caleb.

Their guilt-ridden wizard looks even worse than he did before, if that’s even possible. He smells of soot, shirt scorched and blackened around the collar, and his cheeks are red and peeling with what might be mistaken for a particularly terrible sunburn if Caduceus hadn’t been in the room with him and a fire elemental and a whole entire dragon. But that’s not the worst of it - he’s hunched up at the head of his bed in the already confined space of the room he and Nott have taken over, knees pulled to his chest and a faraway look in his eyes that says he’s probably sat himself down and not moved since.

Caduceus tries not to sigh. “Hey, I brought you some stuff.”

Caleb’s head barely twitches in his direction. “I am not in the mood for tea just now, Herr Clay.”

“Well, good, cause it’s not tea.” He ducks through the doorway properly and brandishes the bowl of salve for inspection, cradling it gently in his hands. “For the burns - you’re going to have to take care of those sooner or later, or they’ll get pretty gross.”

“I will sleep it off, then.”

Caduceus very tactfully refrains from mentioning that Caleb has obviously not been sleeping. “Where’s Nott gotten off to?”

Caleb tends to be a little less guarded when Nott is around, he’s noticed, and the question gets him to shift just enough to reveal Nott hidden between him and the wall, high-pitched goblin snores muffled in the sleeve of Caleb’s coat that she’s wrapped herself up in. “We will let her sleep, ja?”

He turns away, clearly considering the conversation over. Caduceus takes just a little bit of smug pride in the way his head snaps back around when he climbs onto the bed to join them.

“She can sleep. You, though-” He settles cross legged at the foot of the bed, catches Caleb’s eye and pats the mattress in front of him. “C’mere.”

Caleb stares. Caduceus thinks he might be trying to intimidate him. “Herr Clay, we do not know each other so well, but I think I have been quite clear-”

Caduceus snags one of his ankles and starts towing him in, patiently watching him wince and sputter as he scrambles to keep himself upright without the support of the wall. “You - well, the group, but also you - asked me to come with you to heal you all.”

Caleb, just shy of his lap, makes an immensely frustrated noise - he looks like he wants to gesture angrily, but both of his arms are occupied keeping him from falling over. “Yes, but you cannot just-”

“You need healing,” Caduceus says firmly. He takes Caleb’s shoulders and nudges them around, leaving him to straighten the rest of himself out. “Hold still now, I’m doing the back of your neck first.”

All at once, Caleb seems to decide that it’s not worth the effort to crawl back to the other side of the bed - his shoulders bend under the gentle pressure Caduceus puts on them, and he looks away. “Jester has never been this dedicated to healing,” he complains, but he turns himself to sit on the edge of the bed and pulls his feet to the floor.

Caduceus hums approvingly and lets go of him- it’s important to reward good behavior. “Isn’t it nice that the Wildmother decided to bring you to my door, then?”

Caleb snorts.

It’s slow going. First Caleb won’t let him braid his hair up out of the way - he jerks his head away, and Caduceus can see the way his back stiffens with pain as he produces a twist of silver thread and yanks the reddish locks into a painful looking tail at the back of his skull. Then he bows his head and refuses to say a single word when Caduceus asks him if he’s pressing too hard. Honestly, he’s met more cooperative corpses.

“Does it help?” he asks, smoothing more of the salve over the taut muscles on either side of Caleb’s neck. Goosebumps spring up under his fingers, and he rubs a little more firmly to smooth them back down. “The sulking, I mean. Doesn’t do much, in my experience, but you seem pretty attached.”

Caleb, unsurprisingly, stays quiet. Caduceus has to laugh at that, doesn’t particularly bother keeping it quiet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

It’s not a big area to cover, and he’s finished within a minute, but as he keeps rubbing his thumb over the bony jut of spine just under the fragile curve of skull Caleb relaxes ever so slightly into his touch - very much despite his own intentions, he’s sure - and he’s interested in chasing that rather promising hint of compliance. Another minute, and Caleb’s elbows unlock from their pillar-straight position by his sides. He’s curious what might come next, but the exhaustion of the day is starting to pull at him and he knows he needs to check on Beau too before he goes to sleep. Caleb’s a multi-step project, if anything.

He does take the opportunity to tease Caleb’s ponytail just a little looser, though. He doesn’t like seeing people mistreat their hair.

He pulls his hands away - Caleb sways in his direction, a quiet protest escaping, and he does make sure to hide his amusement at that - and reaches for the collar of his shirt. Tugging it away from the skin, he peeks down Caleb’s back and instantly hisses in sympathy. It’s not burnt, protected by two layers of cloth, but the skin still looks red and irritated from the heat. No wonder Caleb isn’t keen on going to sleep. “Okay, shirt off, let’s do your back too.”

And, just like that, Caleb locks right back up. “What? I thought we were done.”

He does permit himself an aggrieved sigh, at that - he’s sure the Wildmother will understand. “Yeah, no - I can see the burns on your back, you know.”

Caleb’s shoulders take on an especially mutinous hunch, fingers tightening on the hem of his shirt. “I will be fine.” He huffs in a dark, angry way that makes Caduceus’ ears want to flatten against the side of his head. “I’ve seen worse.”

Somehow, he doesn’t think his look-over-here trick with the mushroom will work as well here as it did on Beau. Instead, he flutters his fingers along the side of Caleb’s neck, on an unburnt patch of skin just below his ear. Tends to be distracting, even on people who aren’t ticklish there - and he’s fairly sure Caleb isn’t, after watching Jester try to blow a raspberry on the back of his neck and immediately gag on the taste of days-old sweat and earn barely a startle for her troubles.

Which makes it all the more delightful when the sensation takes right away - “Oh”, Caleb gasps, and instantly crushes his shoulders up against his ears as goosebumps bloom over the sensitive skin. “Ah- hffff-”

Caduceus keeps a watchful eye on his hands, yanking his shirt up as soon as his death grip on it loosens and - oh, right the holsters. He’d forgotten about those.

Caleb recovers quickly, pulling away from the tickling and jerkily tugging his shirt down from where it’s caught up by his ribs. “Okay, this is - I am low on spells right now, but if this is what it takes then I will fucking do it-”

Caduceus tunes him out, searching the visible stretch of skin on Caleb’s back for somewhere that’s not going to hurt him to be touched, and - ah, there it is.

Caleb’s tirade cuts off with a startled squeak as Caduceus wraps a palm around his side and wiggles a fingertip into the soft spot just underneath his ribs. Perfect.

He smiles triumphantly and leans over to fish for the buckle on the front of Caleb’s holsters - he’s tall enough to catch a look at Caleb’s face as he does, and finds the scrunched-up nose and twisted lips of someone trying desperately not to laugh. “Didn’t know you were ticklish,” he tells him, gently tugging at straps until he finds the ones he wants. “You could’ve said, if that’s what you were worried about.”

It’s definitely not, he knows, but he’s hoping to bait Caleb into trying to say something in the hopes of getting him to laugh - it’ll be easy enough to deal with him like this, squirming and distracted from the tickling, but he might at least have some fun in the meantime.

Caleb doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. “Sta - hhh - stohoppit” he grits out, swatting at Caduceus’ hand, and he does, but only because he’s got the buckle sorted out and can finally get Caleb’s shirt all the way up.

He considers for a moment and then pulls it over the back of Caleb’s head, leaving his arms dangling loosely in the taut pull of the fabric. “Be good or I’ll tickle you again.”

It’s something he’d say to one of his siblings, and it gets an equally petulant response - Caleb growls, elbows flailing as he tries to break free of his shirt prison. “Caduceus.”

Difficult. Caduceus eyes the bare and probably-ticklish - and currently burnt up - expanse of Caleb’s exposed torso and makes a decision.

Grabbing Caleb around the ribs to hold him still, he murmurs a prayer to the Wildmother and smooths his hands over the damaged skin. Lichen sprouts beneath his fingertips and webs across the irritated skin, a beautiful thing made all the sweeter for happening amidst the salty waves of an earthless ocean. He watches for a moment, waiting for the growth to crumble away as the spell finishes and leaves pink and tender flesh in its wake.

There’s a lot of dust. Caleb’s gone still under his hands, finally, so he lets go and starts to brush everything away - curls his fingers a little more than he needs to, while he’s at it, scritching lightly here and there to see if he can find anything particularly sensitive.

“You,” Caleb says slowly, the bright edge of a laugh squirming its way up under his words, “had spells?”

“Mhmm.” The grooves of Caleb’s ribs seem particularly useful, even if lingering there for more than a moment makes him start squirming again.

“Then - what - ahhf-”

“Well, you didn’t want them earlier. I thought you could use a little fussing over.”

“But - hfff-” Definitely a laugh caught in Caleb’s throat now, words jumbling uselessly on his tongue as he tries to fight it back. Caduceus chuckles and presses his fingers carefully into the bony ridges of his ribcage, rubbing nice and slow to give him a fighting chance of getting the words out. “But I - heh - I am healed now, so-”

He considers for a moment. “Now I’m going to make you laugh,” he decides, digging in a little harder, “and we’ll go from there.”

Caleb jumps hard enough that his shirt tumbles back down around his shoulders, revealing his flushed face as he turns around to gawk. “N - hnnn - no, no, but Nott is sleeping, please-”

“Yeah, she’s a deep sleeper,” Caduceus says. “Does she know how ticklish you are?”

“I’m not,” Caleb gets out, just as Caduceus goes to tickle under his arms and finds the top edge of his ribcage instead.

The resulting shriek of laughter sounds very ticklish to him.

“Not when you’re surprised, maybe,” Cad tells him. Caleb’s starting to wobble dangerously close to toppling off the bed, too tired or distracted to stay upright, so he wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him back to sit properly in his lap. “But if I spend enough time poking around-”

He kneads at the top of Caleb’s ribcage again and finds himself with a lapful of cackling wizard - his hands are under Caleb’s shirt now, but even with his arms free the poor thing isn’t making much of an attempt to get away. “Ahaah, ahahaaa - aaa! - hah, Caduceus - please - ”

Caduceus hums and lets his hands still for a moment. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Caleb’s face is nearly as red as his hair. “It tickles,” he pleads, squeaking helplessly as Caduceus twitches a finger a little too close to his ribs.

Caduceus grins down at him. “Sure it does,” he teases, drifting down to squeeze Caleb’s sides until he starts laughing all over again. “Maybe I should just heal you like this, from now on, so you can’t wander away. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“No! Noho, please, I’m sohorry - ahahaaa!”

Whoops, his fingers are back on Caleb’s ribs again. “Yeah? You’ll stick around next time?”

“Yes,” Caleb shrieks in an very un-Caleb like way, kicking frantically as the merciless tickling heads back up under his arms. “I will, I will, plehehease!”

His voice cracks on the last word, cresting into silent laughter, and Caduceus begrudgingly deems him repentant enough that working on any other bad habits will have to wait. He pulls his hands out from under Caleb’s shirt with one last pinch to his tummy, looking over the giggling mess in his lap with the serene satisfaction of punishment well administered.

He’s been on the other end of things too, often enough - especially from Calliope - but no one here needs to know that.

Caleb sits up, the giddy remnants of a smile lingering in the corners of his mouth as he scrubs his hands furiously over his ribs. “Herr Clay,” he says, breathless, “I think that I will stay very far away from danger for the time being. Just in case.”

Caduceus just laughs at him.

#tickling #critical role #caduceus clay #caleb widogast #chocfic #i'm a little :/ over the characterization on this one but HERE WE GO

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creativenicocorner · 3 years

Text

I think the main reason I’m sharing this, outside of having very little self control, is because I’m tired of staring at it dlfkgjdlg I’ll get out of this writing slump you’ll see!

In the meantime stare away haha

A Terpsichore ch16 sneak peek! //

Better a lynching now than yesterday, he thought calmly.

The changeling wasn’t too surprised of his circumstances, his vision might be upside-down, but, in a morbid sort of inevitable way, everything was back to how it should be.

Human doctors on with their marvelous lives.

Trolls lashing frustrations without much critical thinking skills or thought.

Changelings-

He blacked out. Ever so briefly.

Distantly Walter Strickler felt as though he were laying on a couch. His head in Barbara’s lap. He realized he was smiling up at her, watching her as she relayed a joke.

Something funny Anna had mentioned to Barbara over their last coffee date. Strickler tuned in, in time for Barbara to excitedly say, “And then Anna said ‘so we met over a cadaver - it was liver at first sight’!” and started to laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was music to Strickler’s ringing ears.

At least until he popped back to consciousness with his ears still ringing. The scenery had changed, he was now deeper into Trollmarket. He remembered some of the stalls that Blinky mentioned when he first brought him to the Stronghold.

The fate of being a changeling piñata was all that seemed to await Strickler now. Or so he idly thought as more and more trolls clustered to his honorary pummeling parade - which by now he was feeling rather lackluster about. Sure earlier his heart was pumping to his ears with adrenaline. Feeling like one of those mothers that could lift full cars in order to save their child - which was himself in this scenario - he used to deeply want to save himself. But that go to fight or flight impulse was shot down faster than a migration of mallards during duck season.

It was a surreal experience to watch as more trolls joined the original three. Remarkable how trolls didn’t seem to take much convincing. He contemplated how many of them were truly like minded over their thoughts of his right to exist, or just tagging along out of morbid curiosity. Regardless it was like watching a forrest fire spread.

Every so often Strickler would try to call out, “Jim! Trollhunter!” but didn’t quite put enough heart in it to be heard over the growing cajoling to the others of Trollmarket to join the growing mob. Using the damage sustained by their previous scuffle in the Stronghold as added reasoning to their march.

The trolls wondered aloud how best to go about teaching this changeling a lesson.

Strickler wondered what Nomura would have said to him, at the sight of such a spectacle. And then he remembered she was as good as dead in the Darklands.

Strickler wondered what Otto would say, imagined his golden toothed smile, the chill in his pale blue eyes, and then remembered his betrayal. That Strickler was as good as dead to Otto.

Then, oddly, Strickler found himself wondering what Barbara would say, or how she would treat his wounds.

He found himself imagining they’d be in a quiet space. A living room, either his or hers, he didn’t care. As long as they were together, as long as it was quiet. With a soft breeze blowing through a half opened window. With fresh spring air that wasn’t unbearably full of pollen. The soft sound of gauze being unwrapped. An ever so tender, “Oh Walt.”

But then he remembered she’d never want to see him again, actively looked forward to not remembering him no less. And whatever level of looking after she’d do - would be from civic duty, and a cold ER room.

The thought was merely a fruitless fantasy.

His face grazed against a television pile, jostling, scraping him so blood would leak past his hairline. Strickler felt deserving of the sting.

A good thing about no longer being bound to the binding spell was that he didn’t have to worry Barbara feeling what he would feel. He didn’t have to take care of himself as intently. Though he had already thought about that already - didn’t he? Not that he was confident that he was going to walk away from this. His odds were, not something he wanted to think about.

Soon he wasn’t thinking about anything. He blacked out again.

While unconscious he was imagining a pond. The idea of which folded before him like a pop up book. The pond was full of floating flowers, primarily forget-me-nots, also known as a scorpion grass.

In the pond was a scorpion, who had a flower stuck through its stinger, and was on the back of a most beautiful frog.

“Oh dear.” Went Strickler, “This will end poorly.”

“Must it?” went another voice that was remarkably like his own.

“Of course.” Strickler eyed the stinger. “It is inevitable. Expected even. It’s all in character.”

“That’s a lot of metaphorical pressure to put on a scorpion. It’s only doing its best.”

“But it’ll sting her!” A pause. “The frog I mean.”

“Will it?”

“That’s just how the story goes.” said Strickler, resignation rich in his voice.

“The story isn’t over yet. And besides who says it is the same story?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.” A pause. “What if the story changes? What if just this once, the scorpion didn’t sting the frog?”

“But it’s in its nature. This won’t change.”

“I thought nature was all about change.”

“Yes, well.” Strickler searched for a way to still feel sorry for himself. He didn’t want to feel assured, be given belief of the option to become better. He wanted to sulk in his misery. “Some things stay fixed. There’s no helping this.”

“Some things adapt.” Another pause, this time it was longer. “Did you know there are poisonous frogs out there far deadlier than a scorpion? What if the frog was just as venomous as the scorpion? What if, right now, that scorpion is so far gone just from being on the frog’s back?”

“This isn’t helping. Besides I’m not projecting on the frog. I’m projecting on the scorpion.” Strickler hated how petulant he sounded. He just wanted to be alone.

“Anyways. Scorpion or frog, takes adaptability to become like that, and to grow out of that.”

Strickler made a non-comital sound. He couldn’t stop worrying about that stinger. Besides this voice was clearly not getting the program that now was the time to be miserable. Misery left very little room for optimism. In fact it hurt. Like an ingrown hair.

“Well, enjoy feeling like a villain then.”

“I don’t feel like one, I am one.”

The voice didn’t respond, but Strickler felt confident it was shrugging at him.

He didn’t like that.

That’s when Strickler came back to consciousness again.

They, the trolls, were debating over getting a gaggle-tack or not, wondering if maybe they could hit him between changing. Strickler debated over his feelings on whether he would have preferred to die by the hands of Bular or Gunmar more.

And while the trolls displayed their misguided understanding of changeling physiology with..

“Maybe when we rip his stomach open stones will drop out.”

“Why do you suppose that?” “Well…aren’t they inside out? There was a toy that I found once in the sewers it was, uh, reversible. Wouldn’t that explain where the troll side goes when they look like this? And vise versa?”

Strickler wanted to laugh, but decided against it.

Instead he contemplated over the sheer irony of spending a lifetime being fearful of perishing under the supposed brilliant leadership of Gunmar, only to be beat up and dissected by some gaggle of buffoons.

All that hard work. All that build up of pride. Only to meet an end unsanctimoniously by idiots.

Payback for my own pretentiousness, he gathered.

Now he really wanted to laugh. Something hollow and cold. And Strickler started to, until something (a fist or another blasted video appliance - he wasn’t sure) crashed against his appendix and knocked the air out of him.

It made Strickler think of Barbara, flirting with coffee and appendectomies. Maybe it was the blood rushing to his head - but Strickler welcomed being under Barbara’s knife. If anyone were to dissect him he wouldn’t mind it being her.

It was then that Strickler noticed Krax’s face staring up at him from the crowd. There was a contorted expression on his face that Strickler found hard to read. Immensely so upside down. Was it fear? Was it anger? The foreboding gaze of seeing a potential future should Krax’s identity be found out. Was Krax contemplating rescuing him?

That’d be idiotic, thought Strickler, fondly. Though considering how they left their last conversation Strickler highly doubted it.

He’s probably more worried I’d rat him out. Strickler frowned at the thought.

Thus, with a reasonable amount of changeling honor, Strickler shook his head with a look that Strickler hoped would convey ‘don’t do anything stupid. I won’t expose you. Don’t expose yourself, not for me.’

Strickler wasn’t sure if Krax got the message. He wasn’t sure if the look on Krax’s face was something that resembled sadness. But he did catch Krax lowering his head, and walking away from the crowd.

Strickler smiled at that.

Thank you so much for reading! ♡(´⌣`ʃƪ)

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Walter Strickler #Stricklander #Stricklake #Knife Family #ToA Trollhunters #Ch16 #Nico Writes #Dr Barbara Lake

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witchygirl99 · 4 years

Text

Hi @fantasizingmyfantasies, I’m your Secret Santa for the @inusecretsanta! Hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: InuKag

Rated: G

Summary: Professor Naraku, in a fit of rage over Inuyasha’s insolence, has given every House an assignment on a nearly impossible undetectable poison. Two Gryffindors and two Hufflepuffs solve it anyways, with interesting results.

Note Regarding Witchy Banner Below: Shoutout to @neutronstarchild for making this for me :) She’s the absolute best. Inspiration for the banner comes from @dangerouspompadour and her wonderful creative to let you all know to keep reading ;)

“Are you sure?” Jinenji asked, tugging his long, swirling robes tighter around him as they bustled through the arched hallways of the castle. Students were everywhere, both fleeing into and out of the library. With O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s so close, wizards and witches at Hogwarts had settled into an almost zombie-like state of mania, complete with the muttering of enchantments and funny hand twitches as they fake-casted spells. As a third year, Jinenji was thankful he still didn’t have to worry about those. At least, not yet.

“Have some faith in me,” his best friend, Kagome, argued. Her dark brown eyes looked up at him, somehow glimmering off the yellow inner lining of her robe, peeking out while they hurried to their destination. Jinenji had met Kagome back when they were both first years, both assigned by the Sorting Hat to Hufflepuff. They had become fast friends and for the most part, the two of them managed to partner on most important projects. “Miroku already finished the assignment. Apparently, his guardian was always going on about different poisons, especially those that could be hidden in a drink.”

Jinenji hummed, believing her. He had never talked to Miroku before but Kagome was a good judge of character. If she trusted the Ravenclaw, then he did, too. “I’m surprised we were given this assignment at all. Aren’t we supposed to discuss undetectable poisons, not create them for homework?”

“Well, we have Gryffindor to thank for that.” His best friend pushed through the grand wooden door of Hogwarts’s library, a hush befalling them, like the outside noise of the castle was cast away. Immediately, they could feel eyes on them, though no one visible stood behind a desk. That was likely because the library was ruled with an iron fist by Mister Myoga, the head librarian and also a flea demon. He used his virtually non-existent height to sneak around and ensure students were treating the books with care or remaining quiet. “I heard,” Kagome whispered now, “that Professor Naraku was so angry that he kicked some Gryffindor out of the classroom and then proceeded to make three Slytherins who cheered cry.”

“You’d think he’d have enjoyed that,” Jinenji mumbled back, trying his best to keep quiet. “Professor Naraku is kind to the Slytherins.” His friend hummed at him, leading them further and further back into the library. Jinenji trusted her to know where they were going, and exactly what they were looking for. “Seems unnecessary that this is our assignment, too. Gryffindor and Slytherin had class yesterday. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw today. Why give it to us, too?”

“It’s Professor Naraku, who knows?”

That, at least, was a fair point that Jinenji couldn’t argue with. Not that he was one to argue much at all.

“Come on,” Kagome whispered, hand tugging on his robe. “There’s a potions book – almost like an encyclopedia – by the greatest potioneer ever, Mukotsu Inada. Terrible wizard. I’m pretty sure he’s been in Azkaban for the last ten years. But!” She waved a hand at Jinenji’s look of horror. “The greatest potioneer ever. If there’s no details on this undetectable itching poison in there, then it’s nowhere.”

Jinenji hid his expression, knowing Kagome was right. At this point in the library, he was completely lost, but his friend had no such issues. They turned a corner at one stack of books before zagging in the other direction, muffled voices coming from not too far away. He watched as Kagome frowned, dragging him still, and when they came to what was clearly supposed to be the right spot, he spotted two other students scouring the shelves: Gryffindors.

“You!” Kagome exclaimed, surprised.

Jinenji blinked, surprised by the outburst, and then finally took a good look at the wizard and witch before them.

It was Inuyasha and Shiori. The Troublesome Twosome of Gryffindor.

Oh no.

X+X+X

Inuyasha Taisho was already in a sulking mood, not that he would ever admit as such to Shiori. “Are you sure it’s here?”

“Where else would it be?” Shiori snapped at him, violet eyes a little crazy. She’d been looking that way ever since Inuyasha and Professor Naraku had it out in yesterday’s Potions class, and Shiori had been saddled with taking down the notes for their joint assignment on undetectable poisons without him. Potions was already the bane of Shiori’s existence; she was far more about actions and spell work, leading the Defense Against the Dark Arts grades. Inuyasha’s snarling outburst at Professor Naraku’s stupidity, followed by his dismissal only twenty minutes into class made Shiori have to do double the work. He owed her.

Still. “And you swear you heard the name correctly? You’re not just making shit up?”

“For the love of Merlin, Inuyasha, shush,” Shiori hissed. He was lucky her wand wasn’t out, or he was sure she’d have cast something on him by now. A silencing spell, if nothing else. “I overheard your Hufflepuff girl in the hall. I’m sure it’s correct.”

Inuyasha couldn’t help himself. He turned unimpressed golden eyes at her. “She’s not my Hufflepuff girl!” Ever since their first year, the two of them had been having this argument. Inuyasha didn’t understand why Shiori couldn’t let this go. So what if he thought the Hufflepuff girl was cute? That was normal. She was quick to smile and friendly and basically the opposite of Inuyasha’s entire existence. But it wasn’t like they had spoken or anything, which meant that there was no way Kagome Higurashi, Hufflepuff darling, could be considered in any way ‘his.’

“Whatever,” Shiori replied, kicking him lightly in the leg. “I guess your forlorn staring at her in the Great Hall every evening at dinner means nothing. Fine. Help me find this book!”

Inuyasha sighed. Best friend or not, Shiori was quick to call him out on anything deemed bullshit.

“You!”

Immediately, Inuyasha glared at the intruders to their little library stack, hating being surprised. It was only then that he realized, like some kind of nightmare, that the exact person they were talking about was standing before them. Kagome stared at them in shock, Hufflepuff robes fluttering around her, with another hulking Hufflepuff wizard right behind her looking rather uncomfortable. “What?” he asked, the question coming out far ruder than he meant to.

“Oh, just—” Kagome frowned a little, brow furrowing as she looked between both him and Shiori. Her dark gaze landed on his friend, curiosity taking over her features. “You were listening in earlier!”

“No,” Shiori argued immediately, shaking her head. It didn’t help that the book she was shielding herself with was, in fact, the Great Book of Potions by Mukotsu Inada.

“Just because we’re not in Ravenclaw doesn’t mean we’re stupid,” Inuyasha barked, crossing his arms defensively. “We go to the library for research, too.” He knew that he had a reputation at Hogwarts, and that by association, Shiori did too. Very few witches and wizards ever dared to challenge them at anything. This was almost refreshing.

The Hufflepuff wizard stepped forward then, looking between them and his friend before trying for a smile. He was so tall, his head was the same height as the top of the stacks. If he wasn’t in Hufflepuff and known around Hogwarts as a gentle giant, Inuyasha probably would have been worried about a fight. “We don’t think that at all,” the wizard said quietly, voice shockingly small. “It’s good that you found it. I’m Jinenji and this is Kagome. You’re looking for the itching poison too, right?”

Inuyasha couldn’t help but look at Kagome, swallowing down the words that he already knew her name a long time ago. She smiled back at him despite his unwavering scowl. Inuyasha was begrudgingly endeared even more than before. Shiori could never find out.

“We have Potions class tomorrow and if we don’t complete the assignment tonight, Professor Naraku will have our heads,” Shiori said then. “Specifically Inuyasha’s.”

“Hey!”

“Where’s the lie?”

Inuyasha scowled and looked away. “Whatever. We need the book more. We can give you back the book when we’re done.”

“No way,” Kagome argued, smile slipping. “We have far too many other assignments and this is hard enough that doing it last minute would be terrible.”

“Well then you can copy the book right now.”

Kagome plastered on a smile. “Since I was the one that led you here, you should copy the book.”

Inuyasha eyed Jinenji, the giant Hufflepuff, watching him deflate. “No,” he retorted, just to see what Kagome could do. How far could a Hufflepuff go in friendliness? “We got here first.”

“I have an idea,” Kagome interjected, still friendly but oddly firm. “Since we all want to do the same assignment tonight, why don’t we do it together? That way, we get all the information we need, we all complete the assignment on time and everyone is happy.” Inuyasha opened his mouth but she shot him a sharp look, smile gaining an edge and quelling his argument. “This is the best plan.”

“That’s fine for me,” Jinenji replied quietly. Inuyasha noticed that despite his size, he almost shifted behind Kagome, as if hiding from the confrontation. “Where will we do it? We can’t practice in one of the classrooms at this hour or we’ll be caught for sure.”

“The girls’ Gryffindor bathroom,” Shiori said suddenly, finally speaking up. “No one goes in there, not even the prefects.”

“That’s perfect,” Kagome encouraged, nodding. “Great idea.”

Too nice. She was far too fucking nice. At least she wasn’t smiling anymore, menacingly or sweetly.

Jinenji hummed. “Should we go now, then? Meet up in ten minutes so we can get our scrolls?”

“Works for me,” Shiori answered, her elbow digging into Inuyasha’s side.

He huffed. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Wonderful,” Kagome concluded.

Inuyasha watched her and the giant Hufflepuff walk away, mouthing the word wonderful incredulously. Who even said things like that?

X+X+X

The Gryffindor bathroom was haunted. This was very likely why no one came in it, Kagome thought, staring up at the ghost floating in front of her.

“You must be the Hufflepuffs,” the ghost whispered, eyeing her and Jinenji in turn. He was a squat little thing, a toad demon with massive eyes and a permanent frown. While non-corporeal and clearly transparent, the ghost still took off the hat on his head and scratched, assessing them. “You shouldn’t be here,” the ghost warned.

“Leave them be, Jaken! You’re never supposed to be in here anyways, and yet.” It sounded like the Gryffindor girl Kagome had caught hanging around her in the hall earlier that day, right after the disastrous Potions class with Professor Naraku. Kagome wasn’t the suspicious kind, but she had noticed the way the girl had stopped and fiddled with her bag for an overly long time, those violet eyes looking up every once and a while like Kagome wouldn’t notice.

Well, she had. Kagome didn’t mind that she was being listened to, but wouldn’t it have been so much easier if the Gryffindor had just…come to her outright and asked?

Suddenly, Shiori poked her head around the corner and flashed them a smile. “This way! There’s enough room by the stalls for us all to sit.” She eyed Jinenji as she said it, only a brief glance, but Kagome was grateful that the two of them had at least considered her friend’s bulk. Jinenji was too kind-hearted to ever complain and it drove Kagome nuts every once and a while.

A cauldron sat in the middle with numerous jars and bags surrounding it. Seated on the far side was Inuyasha, glowering at it. Kagome tried for a smile, sitting down beside him. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out so Professor Naraku can’t pick on you.”

Inuyasha blinked at her, looking confused for all of a moment before his nose scrunched up. “Pretty sure we could get perfect on this and he would still pick on me.”

“He is, after all, the reason we were even assigned this horrible homework,” Shiori grumbled, sitting across from Kagome. She elbowed Inuyasha and shot him a sympathetic glance. “In fairness, Naraku was being a huge jerk.”

“Whatever,” Inuyasha grumbled, and Kagome watched as he peeked at her quickly before returning his glower to the cauldron. “Let’s just get this over with. If we miss curfew and I get caught again, I’m fucked.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Kagome agreed.

“I can read out the ingredients,” Shiori offered then, holding the book. “Inuyasha can do the cutting—”

“Actually,” Kagome interjected, smiling to soften the blow of her interruption. “Jinenji is the best with preparing the ingredients. He’s saved so many of our potions I can’t even keep count.”

Inuyasha shrugged, looking like he didn’t particularly care. Jinenji, as expected, turned red at the praise, big hands fidgeting with each other. Kagome knew this would make him the most comfortable though, and pushed over the various ingredients already collected. “That’s fine with me.”

“We can work on the potion itself,” she said, reaching out to get Inuyasha’s attention back. He startled again and Kagome felt helpless but to do anything other than smile reassuringly. “What’s first?”

Shiori gave Jinenji the proper instructions for the ingredients. Some things were quite simple, like pouring in a certain amount of the powdered porcupine quills, but other ingredients required some finessing. Kagome was pleased when Inuyasha and Shiori watched, entranced, as Jinenji deftly prepared the aconite flowers, big hands somehow managing to cut up the petals while only touching the safe stems. He gave Kagome the tiny board he had brought filled with the sliced petals, prepared as always, and Kagome carefully held it over the cauldron while Inuyasha transferred them into the mixture.

They let it heat for a minute, the four of them quietly watching the ingredients mix together. Jinenji, smart as always, started to crush a few of the remaining herbs using a pestle.

Inuyasha tapped on the floor of the bathroom, golden eyes seeking Kagome’s the moment time was up. “Now what?”

Shiori, leading them all, was the one to answer. “The effectiveness of the poison is determined by the length of brew. Great Potions tells us what the consistency is supposed to be, so I think as long as we record it on our scrolls, we’ll just have to hope that by tomorrow morning we’ll have the right result. I can bottle it up first thing, one for each of us to deliver in class.”

“Here’s the last of it,” Jinenji interrupted softly, offering what was in the pestle.

Kagome took it and just like their usual routine, Inuyasha made sure it carefully was put in. She nudged gently at his knee, gesturing towards her own wand. “You do the honours and then I’ll stir?”

The Gryffindor blinked at her for a moment before shrugging, grabbing his wand. Inuyasha waved it above the cauldron, and the deep purple mixture bubbled into a dark blue.

“That’s it,” Shiori exclaimed, excited. “Matches the book exactly.”

“Thank god,” Inuyasha groaned, making Kagome laugh. She double-checked with Shiori before putting in the long spoon and stirring seven times exactly, watching the blue liquid swirl around. It was bubbling quite rapidly, despite the low heat, and when she removed the spoon there was a tiny burst of it, popping out of the cauldron and landing right on the chest of Inuyasha’s clothes.

For a long moment, the four of them were silent, staring in disbelief.

“The itching poison—” Jinenji started, but was cut off immediately by Inuyasha’s heavy sigh.

“Why does this always happen to me?” he grumbled, undoing the tie of his outer robe. The problem was that the blue liquid could clearly be seen on the shirt underneath, closest to his skin. The itching poison was supposed to be quite horrible and she really didn’t want to have to take them down to St. Mungo’s.

“Hurry,” Kagome insisted, getting worried. If Jinenji had started to bring up the itching poison, it could only mean that things would go bad quickly.

The Gryffindor scowled at her. “I am hurrying!”

“No, not—” And then Kagome was forcing her way in front of him, pushing at his robe before grabbing onto the buttons of his shirt underneath. “If this touches your skin, you’ll be itching for a month, at least, and you’ll never be able to make it through class tomorrow—”

“I have it!” Inuyasha argued, even as Shiori tugged the robe from behind him. “It’s fine, it won’t—” But then he got somehow impossibly tangled. Shiori wasn’t letting go, pulling even harder, and Inuyasha flailed backwards.

“Oof!” Kagome, her hands on his shirt still, was dragged down with him. It was an ungainly sprawl with Kagome embarrassingly ending up straddled above his prone form, lying on the ground.

She stared at him for a second, horrified, while Inuyasha looked at her with something akin to fear.

And then she saw the blue liquid on the collar, having moved from the fall, and it was so close to his skin. “Off!” she yelled, tugging furiously.

“You’re not undressing me!” Inuyasha shouted back, even though he, too, was trying to avoid the poison.

“You have to!”

“No!”

“Inuyasha!”

“Kagome!”

“Inuyasha!”

X+X+X

Behind them, Shiori crawled over until she was side-by-side with Jinenji. She stared up at him with big violet eyes, trying and failing to suppress her smile. “Should we tell them?”

Jinenji sighed but he looked just as amused as she was. “That the effectiveness of the itching poison doesn’t begin until at least an hour of brewing?”

“Yeah.” Shiori nodded and then stared at Inuyasha and Kagome, yelling at each other and somehow both trying to accomplish the same task. “That.”

“I already tried.” Jinenji shrugged. “It’s not like they can actually get hurt.”

But just as he had spoken, Kagome had finally managed to successfully tug at Inuyasha’s shirt, hauling him up into a sitting position and whipping off the material from the side. They both twisted, and Shiori could only watch, like a train about to crash, as Inuyasha’s and Kagome’s faces collided.

To call it a kiss would have been excessive. Both turned extremely red anyways.

“What are you doing?” Inuyasha yelled.

“Me? What about you? Why would you lean so far forward?!”

“It was that or you were going to dislocate my shoulder!”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Kagome argued.

Shiori nudged Jinenji, even though her elbow barely made it past his huge legs. “If you and I are going to have to watch this play out for the next four years, we better get an Outstanding on this stupid assignment.”

The giant Hufflepuff smiled down at her. “I’m sure we will.”

#IFY #witchy writes #inusecretsanta #fantasizingmyfantasies #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfiction #harry potter AU #inuyasha #kagome #jinenji #shiori #iyfss

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galpalaven · 4 years

Photo

It’s happening!

Hello, everyone, I have big news for you all today and that is - I’m finally launching my Patreon!

Yes, that’s right! Patreon!

With the state of the world as it is, I’ve found myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. As you all may know, I am currently living in Canada and studying Creative Writing and Publishing at university. I am also an incredible immunocompromised individual, which means that I am unable to get a job outside of the house because of my health.

That’s where Patreon comes in.

If you’ve ever liked my work in the past and wanted to help out a little to ensure that I can keep bringing you that good content, consider subbing to my Patreon! Not only will you get to help me out, you’ll also get to interact with my content even more than you ever have before!

But wait, Kiana - what sorts of things could we get on Patreon that we couldn’t already get from your tumblr? What could you possibly have to offer?

Glad you asked!

Patreon Exclusives

For as low as $1 per month, you can gain access to all of the following:

Sneak Peeks of upcoming content and Works-In-Progress

Behind-the-scenes content including: character sheets, worldbuilding, deleted scenes, and pre-canon shorts

Monthly writing content voted on by patrons: these could be character sheet templates, plot outline templates, writing tutorials, and more!

Early access to beta testing of any interactive novel games I produce

AND if you sign up for $10 a month or more you will even get:

Priority access to commissions + 20% discount on any commissions purchased

If you are my patron at this level, I will automatically prioritize your commissions over any other commissions I have.

I’ve already posted some info about my current Original projects that I’m working on if you want to take a look.

I’ll be continuing to post some more things over the next few weeks, including sneak peeks of the fanfic WIPs I have in the works. I hope this interests at least some of you, because I think it would be fun to have ~exclusive content~ and a community. If enough of you are interested, we might also start a Discord server in the future, where we could hang out, chat, and play video games together.

Thanks so much for reading!

-Kiana

#patreon #galpalaven on patreon #patreon announcement #patreon launch #my writing #uhhhh idk how else to tag this jfklds

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maxismatchccworld · 4 years

Photo

Welcome back to our latest - and last! - Deep Dive into the gameplay of The Sims 4 Nifty Knitting Stuff Pack. I’ve really enjoyed sharing the designs and development of this pack with you, and I hope to continue doing these sorts of posts in the future. It’s been a super cool experience, and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading these! In today’s post I’ll talk about the feature that is core to everything in this pack, Knitting! Once again, I have to remind you that we’re still in active development on the pack and so some things may change between now and the final game. Now, let’s talk about some nifty knits!

READ IT I PROMISE YOU GONNA LIKE IT!

In order to start knitting, you’ll need to purchase a Yarn Basket from the Build/Buy catalog. You probably remember voting on these baskets a while back. This was the winning design, presented to you now in all its colorful glory! Don’t like color? That’s okay, because we included a solid black and white variant.

We have one more knitting basket coming too! Remember this one?

The basket acts as the crafting catalyst(neat term, huh?) similar to the Easel or Woodworking Bench in The Sims 4 base game. But unlike those examples, the Yarn Basket is meant to live in a Sim’s inventory so that they can take their knitting anywhere they want to go. Knitting itself is relatively straightforward: click on the Yarn Basket in your inventory, OR, with the basket in your inventory, click on the chair you want to sit in while knitting (perhaps a rocking chair?) and select the Knit interaction. Your projects are saved to your Sim, so you can pause your progress at any time and resume later, and even juggle multiple projects at once. Starting a project costs a small amount of Simoleons for the cost of yarn, but nothing too outrageous.

(Children can knit too!) As a Sim levels up their knitting skill they’ll have access to new patterns. They’ll start with knitting socks and beanies, but as they grow more skilled they can tackle more challenging projects like sweaters and toys for kids. But if you only want to specialize in one thing - perhaps knitted mailbox cozies? - that's fine too! Just keep knitting anything and everything, and you’ll be level 10 before you know it. Speaking of knitting skill, sometimes your skill is reflected in your knitted work, or rather your lack of skill. Knitting projects can fail, and when they fail they can get weird. But it’s all subjective, and maybe you’ll end up accidentally knitting the cutest derpy companion, or the perfectly itchy sweater. No mistakes, only happy accidents!

(Just own it.) One of the niftiest parts of the knitting skill is unlocking the ability to Teach to Knit, where Sims sit down together and have a knitting pow-wow. We wanted this to feel special, so we got a really sweet animation for it (Thanks Haeju!). Now that you can infect other Sims with the knitting bug, no yarn ball will be safe!

(The knitting needles aren’t finished on the Teach To Knit interaction yet, but trust me it's SUPER CUTE.) So, what can you do with all these knitting projects? Lots of stuff! Not only can knitted objects be listed on Plopsy, but you can also Donate them to charity. If you want to surprise a loved one, try Gifting a knitted object too. If you want to destroy all traces of your knitted failures, you can Frog the object and start again! If it's a particularly nice Sweater that you made, consider Adding it to Wardrobe to make it available in Create-A-Sim to all family members.

(Everyone appreciates a nice gift!) We want Sims to be able to knit something for their whole family. Not only will Sims be able to knit Toddler Onesies, but Baby Onesies as well. So put your little grubworm in a handmade knitted outfit. I’m sure they’d thank us if they could! (And if they didn’t like it I’m sure they’d be polite about it.)

(Here’s a sneak peek at some of the concept art for new clothing for the littlest of Sims!) It also felt like a good idea to add an Aspiration to tie this passion for knitting all together. So if you want to master the fuzzy art of knitting, consider signing your Sim up for the Lord(or Lady) of the Knits Aspiration. With yarn running through your veins, there will be no knitting mountain too hard to conquer! Master the Aspiration and you’ll be rewarded with the Sacred Knitting Knowledge trait. What does it do? Lots of stuff! What does it unlock? Something special! Am I being vague? I am! Come on guys, I can’t share all the secrets quite yet.

As I’ve mentioned previously, we’re trying to get as much cross-pack functionality for knitting as we can. Cats can play with Yarn Baskets and Yarn Balls, there will be new Club rules for Knitting, new class electives at University, and knitting counts for Emotional Control, just to name a few. I’m hoping Knitting feels nice and snug alongside our other gameplay systems. Now let's have a chat with our lead Object Modeler, Beth Mohler! Conor: Can you tell us a little bit about what an Object Modeler does on The Sims 4? Beth: As an object modeler I spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to make objects work in The Sims 4. This is actually a very involved process, and somewhat different from the wonderful work our environment team does. We work with designers, concept artists, engineers, animators, vfx artists (basically everyone!) to make sure that Sims can use an object properly in an animation, or that all of our objects will work with each other. Once we understand the design for a new object, we will create a rig, a block model (a very generic version of the object used to help us make more of the same object in the future), and a footprint (tells us where the object can go and how Sims move around it). Once those are tested by animators and other disciplines we can model the final version, create UVs, and add textures. We also hook up and test everything in the game to make sure it all looks good. There is a lot to think about when it comes to making objects because we know players can find so many interesting ways to place and use them in game. That makes it a very fun challenge to make them work with everything else we’ve built before. Conor: What feature are you most excited to work on in Nifty Knitting Stuff? Beth: I’d say I am most excited to work on the rocking chairs! I love that we are bringing them to the game and can’t wait to see them in some cozy living rooms or on porches. Conor: What are some of the challenges you are facing working on this pack? Beth: One of the biggest challenges is ensuring that the knitting itself looks good and is fun to watch! This is a challenge given that it needs to work for everything you can create. Figuring this out takes a lot of iteration between modeling, animation, engineering, design, and art direction so that we come to a conclusion that will work the best given our time and technical constraints. Another interesting “challenge” is the fact that I crochet as a hobby myself! When you are knowledgeable about something (yarn!) in real life, working on it in the game it can sometimes be hard to separate the things you know and may expect in reality from what is possible or best within a video game. I have to make sure to keep a balance and to conceptualize how we can best convert the knitting experience into The Sims 4. As someone who also generally enjoys interior design and architecture, this is actually one of my favorite challenges and one of the things I love about working on objects in The Sims 4. Conor: What is your favorite feature you have ever worked on in The Sims 4? Beth: I think it has to be a tie between the mini fridge or the robotics table in Discover University. That pack was the first time I got to really take an entire feature from start to finish. I’ve been with Maxis for a while, but I’m relatively new to The Sims 4. Both of these objects had some complex features we wanted that required a lot of iteration. I learned a ton about the technical aspects of our game during the process as well. I’ve also worked on a few very cool things between then and now, but those can’t be shared yet ; ) As a fan of The Sims since the very beginning I am so happy to be able to share a little about what I do on a daily basis on The Sims 4 with you! I haven’t been on The Sims 4 for quite as long overall, but some of you may also recognize me from my time on Sims Mobile where I shared some of our workflows on Twitter for making a juice bar. Thanks! Conor: You shared a screenshot of the In-Progress Rocking Chair in our Rocking Chair Deep Dive. Can you share an updated screenshot now that the Rocking Chair is further along? Beth: I would love to! I hope everyone has been enjoying seeing the progress on this object so far! Here it is a little further along. This program allows us to set the rules for the object materials, footprint size and rig it should use, as well as all the color variants and swatch colors you see in the catalog.

Thanks Beth! By the way, Beth is on Twitter @SimGuruBeth, so be sure to Follow her! And thanks to all of you Simmers for following this pack’s development, this has been a really fun project in a very crazy time. A big thank you to my Stuff Pack teammates, and especially SimGuruSarah who edited my inane ramblings and wrangled the miscellaneous bits for these posts. While this concludes my design Deep Dives, we still have more forum posts with development insights on the way! Keep checking the Community Stuff Pack forum and we’ll have more fun stuff to show off in the weeks to come. Until next time, SimGuruConor

Source: The Sims Forum

#s4cc #s4mm #ts4cc #ts4mm #maxis match #thesims4 #S4 news

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bubbyleh · 4 years

Text

Do I Know You? - Chapter 7

read this chapter on ao3! check out the rest of this series on tumblr!

Chapter 7: Redacted Version An idea of the truth.

- ○ -

Getting to know your long-lost sibling around thirty-nine years after they disappeared is certainly something. It’s difficult sometimes for Kleiner to reconcile the adult sitting across from him with the baby he knew so long ago, but he’s trying! And though Bubby isn’t really one to offer up much in the way of personal anecdotes, even hearing the odd story from five years ago from Coomer is nice.

At first, Kleiner told himself he wouldn’t press. He had no starry-eyed, idealized notion of Black Mesa in his head. The facility was fucked up beyond measure, and the thought of Bubby growing up surrounded by that? It was one he wanted to shove into a trash can in his mind.

But Bubby didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and Kleiner wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

Slowly, though, that changed. The incidents were small initially, but Bubby began to open up slightly. Like how during one of their regular coffee meetings, Kleiner asked a bit about the conversation he’d overheard in Chemical Engineering.

“Oh, that,” Bubby grimaces. “That was Dr. Daniels. He’s been in charge of my project for as long as I can remember. He died not long after that night .”

“Good,” Kleiner says in response to that last fact, a statement that throws Bubby for a loop. They look unsure, avoiding Kleiner’s gaze for the briefest of moments and slouching forward. Suddenly, though, their eyes widen, and they sit right back up.

“Yeah, you’re right,” they finally say. “It is good.”

Bubby places their mug on the table, brow furrowing as they stare at the coffee, gently swishing. And something about it threatens to tear Kleiner’s heart apart. The wrongness of it all. Bubby shouldn’t have memories like that—of Dr. Daniels. They were supposed to grow up together, in a small house at the end of the street. Instead, they were in Kleiner’s admittedly cramped kitchen, trying to catch up on a lifetime of memories.

It’s unfair.

Kleiner takes a sip of his coffee.

“Bubby,” he manages to ask. “Have you ever thought about leaving Black Mesa?”

And Bubby frowns. “That’s… complicated.” They fiddle with the edge of their mug.

“How so?”

“Well,” Bubby sighs. “It’s not that I want to stay at Black Mesa, it’s more that… I don’t technically have a doctorate, you know. And I’m not qualified to do anything else. If I want a job, it’s gotta be here.”

Oh. Right. Actually, Kleiner hadn’t really thought about that, but it did make sense that Black Mesa wouldn’t be able to just hand Bubby a degree. Hell, it might actually be a bit of a warning sign if they could.

“But, also…” In the most simple of motions, Bubby smiles. “Harold’s here. You’re here, Isaac.” He brings his mug up to his mouth, but pauses to clarify, “You two are doing great work. I wouldn’t ask you to leave it, and I won’t leave either of you.”

Bubby’s clearly trying to keep their tone casual, but their words feel significant to Kleiner. They hold a weight to them; a promise.

- ○ -

The Hanukkah photo was the first step. It took a while, but the longer Bubby saw it and got used to it, the more he realized he was curious. The baby in that photo looks so happy to be with their brother, and it’s hard to imagine that that’s

him

. A little person whose family adored them. And maybe, if they see the rest of Kleiner’s photos, he’ll at least understand a bit about who that person could have been.

Isaac, of course, was thrilled by the prospect of sharing Bubby’s baby pictures. He’d promised to dig up as many as he could and bring them over, since Black Mesa’s singles dorms aren’t really great for receiving guests in. Once Harold had found out about the plan, though, he’d been eager to invite himself to the viewing. Actually, he’d been practically giddy about it.

Maybe they should be worried about that…

…

Oh this was a mistake.

Before they can really consider cancelling, though, there’s a knock at the door. And when Bubby opens the door to the sight of Kleiner holding a small cardboard box, it’s only then that he realizes that tonight is going to be extremely embarrassing.

- ○ -

“Oh, look at this one! He has to be less than an hour old, here!”

“My goodness, he’s adorable!”

Bubby has to resist every urge not to hide his red face behind his hands, because some poor part of his brain still really wants to see what he looked like as a baby. Unfortunately, Coomer does as well, and if they have to hear one more time about how they were the cutest thing to ever grace the planet, then they’re going to explode.

What’s even worse, though, is that Coomer brought out his own collection.

“You should see this one.” He slides a picture over to Kleiner. “They thought they were so cool!”

Bubby just barely catches a glance of a photo of himself when he was, what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six? Couldn’t have been too long after he started dating Coomer, actually.

“Wait a fucking second.” Bubby snatches the photo before Kleiner can get that good of a look. They do look younger, with a scowl on their face pointed somewhere offscreen. “I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Ah, well.” Finally, Coomer has the audacity to look at least a bit sheepish. “I made sure you weren’t looking.”

Bubby squints back down at the picture. “Why?”

“I thought you looked nice,” Coomer admits matter-of-factly.

And after a brief reprieve, Bubby’s flushed face returns in full force. This time, though, he draws his knees to his chest and buries his face in them.

“You two are killing me,” Bubby mumbles, holding the picture out for Isaac.

Kleiner plucks it from their hands. “You’re fine,” he insists.

“I will die, and it will be your fault.”

There’s a sound of papers shifting, followed by Kleiner muttering, “Hang on a moment…”

Bubby peeks out.

“I think that was it, actually,” Kleiner sighs. Almost instinctively, he reaches over and pats Bubby’s head, earning himself a glare. “You disappeared when you were around thirteen months. That’s not a lot of time…”

Kleiner’s eyes seem fixed on the photo of the newborn in his hand, though. He brushes it with his pointer finger, and in the back of Bubby’s mind, something clicks into place. They stand abruptly, much to their brother’s surprise.

“Fine,” Bubby states. “Give me a second.”

They loop around the couch, and after blindly fumbling under it for a moment, their hand finally finds purchase on what they were looking for. With a flourish, Bubby holds up their file, shaking off the dust that’s accumulated.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding that?” Coomer asks.

“Don’t worry, it’s getting a new hiding spot after tonight,” Bubby reveals. He settles back on the couch, clutching the file tightly. “Now, let me set the ground rules: This is a selective process, which means I reserve the right to withhold any picture I see fit.” He glares at the two of them. “No sneaking.”

Kleiner nods, and Coomer chimes in with “Understood!”

Bubby takes a deep breath before they open their file again. It’s been a while—a long while—since they last did, but everything is just as they left it. In fact, he thinks he might know where the first good picture is as he flips forwards slightly.

“Alright.” They undo the paperclip, slipping the photo to Kleiner. “This is me and Dr. Cynthia, one of the good ones. The notes say I was around fourteen months here.”

Dr. Cynthia had taken an immediate liking to Bubby, and judging by the picture, the feeling was mutual. She held him up to the camera with such a happy look on her face. Bubby’s struck with the thought that it was the first time in over a month that someone had loved him.

And Isaac has tears welling up in his eyes.

“No, shit,” Bubby struggles. “Don’t cry, fuck.” They pull Kleiner into a hug without really thinking.

Kleiner wipes away the few tears that escaped. “I’m fine, Bubby, seriously,” he says, but his voice sounds shaky. “It’s just… I didn’t get to see you grow up.”

Oh.

Crap.

“Okay, we don’t have to look at them anymore-” Bubby tries to put the file down.

“No wait!” Kleiner’s almost frantic as he grabs onto Bubby’s wrist. He takes a breath. “I want to see them.”

“You’re sure?”

Kleiner nods.

“Alright.” Bubby shakes his hand off them. “But we’re taking a break if you need it.”

- ○ -

Seeing the rest of Bubby’s childhood was certainly a mixed bag of emotions. They were such a cute little kid. There was a picture of them after they got their first pair of glasses, with a smile bright enough to light up a room. And then in their teenage years, their facial expressions gradually melted into “teen angst”. It was especially funny when Kleiner held up a picture of Bubby pouting when he was a baby, and they realized he was making the same face in both photographs.

Kleiner loved it, truly, but there was an underlying melancholy to it all. He should have seen this all himself. Bubby was taken away from their family, and for what?

That question sticks in their head. For what? Bubby’s clearly been skipping over large parts of their childhood, ignoring the bad parts and sharing the good. And that makes sense, of course, but…

Well, Kleiner read that first paper. Bubby was taken for augmentation and enhancement.

They did something to him.

“I’ll see you sometime next week,” Bubby promises as they see Kleiner out of their dorm. “Maybe we’ll do another dinner?”

“That would be nice,” Kleiner agrees. He’d stayed later than he meant to, but the trams would run for another hour or so. He has time for goodbyes.

“I’ll talk to you about it at work!” Harold calls from the seating area, where he’s still sorting the picture mess.

Bubby rolls their eyes, but they lean in, pulling Kleiner into another hug. “Thank you.”

Kleiner’s always happy about some genuine emotion from their sibling, but it’s a bit sudden. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know, really,” Bubby chuckles to himself. “Being my brother, I guess? Accepting me?”

“Like I wouldn’t welcome you back.” Kleiner returns the hug for a brief moment, before pulling back. “I’ll look at my schedule next week.”

Bubby waves his brother off. “Bye, Isaac.”

“Bye Bubby.”

And Isaac Kleiner decides. He is going to get his hands on that file.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #hlvrai boomer #boomer #boomer content back :)#dr bubby #bubby #dr coomer #isaac kleiner #my writing #do i know you

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47pictures · 3 years

Text

“All-Star”

Link to original r/nosleep post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/mv9j9a/for_my_blog_i_toured_a_movie_studio_to_find_the/

________________________________________________________________

I finally made it to Hollywood… at least, I suppose that’s what I’d say if I were trying to make it big. That wasn’t exactly the case, though. On the contrary, my old hometown friend was the one who I’d say ‘made it big,' and she was the only reason I managed to get there. No way in hell I could just stroll through these Hollywood gates without some sort of reputation associated with my name.

I’m currently pursuing a degree in journalism, and right now I’ve got a pretty successful status as a blogger, and hopefully podcaster in the near future. My topics typically cover things involving entertainment, specifically movies, television, some celebrity gossip here-and-there, the ins and outs of the film and occasionally music industry, nerd topics about comic books or comic book movies, and I could go on. Essentially, all the things you’d expect from an entertainment blogger.

I don’t have a secret or special tip for how I grew a mass following. It just sort of happened. I did it since I was in high school - sophomore year, to be exact, and it started mainly as a hobby. Most people are surprised to hear that I was such a good writer and articulate for my age when they look back on the articles I’d put up during that time, speaking on topics such as the ‘downfall of blockbuster films,’ and the ‘toxicity of media's body standards on the youth.’ Truthfully, I didn’t know all of what I was saying half the time. Writing was sort of just my natural gift that I honed to where I could essentially bullshit anything well enough to make a great story. However, being ethical always remained my moral code.

The topic I was covering now involved my own personal ‘investigation’ of a famous movie studio known as Gemini Films. They’ve put out several flicks now that have garnered what most would consider moderate success (they're no Warner Bros. or Paramount, that's for sure). They deal mostly in the thriller/horror genre, sort of like Blumhouse. I’m a bit more in the sci-fi, comedy realm when it comes to my tastes, but really, I’m a bit of a pussy when it comes to scary stuff.

So why am I 'investigating' them? Well, as it turns out, it's their amazing use of special effects. Yep, that’s it. Special effects, that thing we fell for as children we called ‘movie magic,' and growing up learned that some of it were all the crafty work of well-put CGI. Though that’s usually the case, this time, something about Gemini Films seemed different. They’ve always been praised for their ‘hyperrealistic’ visual effects and pulling off stunts that would otherwise seem impossible. I was watching one of their action/horror films titled Last Thorn, and in a particular scene, a character’s on-screen death is, well, very lightly put, gruesome. I’ve seen my share of on-screen gore and played plenty of Mortal Kombat growing up, but I gotta say, I found the scene hard to watch. To clarify, it involved a character literally exploding before the camera, and from the way it was shot and the lack of cuts and edits typically required to create the illusion of a scene, it seemed quite real. A little too real…

They’ve done other things aside from their special effects department that some people on internet discussion forums found a bit too impressive. Take the actors, for instance. In their dramatic scenes, especially the horror flicks, I’m almost always convinced that the actors are actually going to die on screen. I’m surprised all of them haven’t been given Oscars yet, ‘cause goddamn, you’d think the director was holding them at gunpoint. We all saw just how amazing the acting was in films like Hereditary and The Babadook were, but I gotta say, after watching these films, they make those two look like child’s play (no pun intended to the Chucky series). I was so impressed with the actors that I had to look them up and see what other work they’d done, but from what I did find, their resumes didn’t seem that much greater than the work they’d done for GF. It was almost as if that was the peak of their careers unless they decided to further their contracts to star in any more of their movies. Anything else they did pale in comparison that showcased their acting chops.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jamie Douglas.

It had somewhat of household name potential, I thought. She was the next rising star. She’d just won a Golden Globe for her leading role in a TV series I’m sure no one had high hopes for in the beginning, and her name was now attached to an Academy Award-winning film for Best Original Screenplay, all at the age of 22. Her acting was stellar, always had been even growing up back in high school when we did theater together. I was never for the acting side of things; I always preferred the technical realm and behind-the-scenes work. She, however, had the ‘it’ factor. I never once doubted that she’d be famous. It was destined for her.

The taxi driver dropped me off in front of a luxurious one-story home in the Beverly Hills neighborhood, surrounded by other similar houses with a property value larger than what I’d probably make in my lifetime if I was being honest. From the outside, her home reminded me of that gilded, golden age of Hollywood back in the 60s, with a slanted roof and art deco-styled exaggerated features. It was nice and simple. But that’s how Jamie was. Nice and simple.

I could see her peeking through the curtains of her window before she came running out the door to meet me in the front yard. That big beautiful smile and those joyous eyes came rushing at me with open arms.

“Christian!” she screamed my name with excitement, as she gave me a big, suffocating hug.

I hugged her back with my free arm, as my other one was still carrying my trolley bag and she had that one pinned in her grip.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, I made it to Hollywood, right?” I dryly humored.

Jamie giggled as she began to pull back from her hug and put both her hands on my shoulders.

“Yes we did,” she said with a big smile, flashing her perfectly straight, white teeth. “We sure did.”

She led me inside the house and gave me a tour. Compared to the outside, the inside was the complete opposite in regards to the decorative era. Whereas the exterior was ‘groovy’, the inside was a bit more with the times. Wide-open spaces, tan or beige-colored furniture and walls, a wide sliding door for the backyard where you can see the pool. Jamie recently moved into the house, so I figured there wouldn’t be a lot of things to fill it up with just yet.

“Someone said Bette Davis used to live in this house, which I knew was bullshit, otherwise the value on this home woulda been way outta my league,” Jamie commented.

I chuckled. “Oh, I think you’re well on your way, trust me,” I reassured.

I was going to be staying with her for a week while I did my journaling/blogging. We did tons of catching up. She gave me all the inside scoop of what goes on in Hollywood - or ‘Hollyweird’ as I liked to call it - and even some of her other famous neighbors you might recognize living double lives on the down-low. She said she’d been to a couple of big mansion parties as well, where you’ll see all sorts of celebs from different categories of entertainment. Actors, athletes, musicians, models, influencers, you name it. But Jamie insists that she doesn’t attend those very often, if hardly at all. She prefers to be a homebody when she’s not seeking work through her agent, and her extraversion mostly comes to play when it involves networking.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the night we stayed up watching TV and YouTube videos. One that fascinated both of us was a video explaining how scientists managed to find a way to make a perfectly cooked steak from a cow, but without actually harming or slaughtering it. Instead, they extracted a small sample of the cow’s cells and took it to a lab where the cells would essentially grow into muscle for it to be cooked later.

“I’d consider that over going vegan,” Jamie said.

But I grimaced at the thought. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem right,” I remarked.

"What, are you vegan?"

"No, not that. Just the thought of cloning animals, ya know?"

“I mean, it’s not like they’re killing the cow or anything. They said it’s perfectly unharmed.”

“I know, but still…”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning was day one for me. Jamie had the right connections to get me an on-set tour of the studio lots associated with Gemini Films. I was greeted and led by the third assistant director (or AD as they’re commonly referred to).

“Hi, I’m Tiffany, nice to meet you,” she said, with a rather forced smile and handshake.

She carried a clipboard in her other arm, as well as a hand-held radio clipped to the pocket of her jeans, and I saw that she also had an earpiece nestled in her right ear. I could tell she was about her business and probably didn’t have time to be overly nice or talk too much.

I got a sneak peek of their most current production under the production title *"*Cold Silence", which required me to sign an NDA beforehand, of course. That wasn't actually their final name for the movie, but it's a common thing for them to do when shooting a film when either they haven't decided on a name yet or to keep the nature of the project a secret. It sort of took me back to my theater tech days with all the set designs and props lying around, except these were much more detailed and intricate thanks to their higher budget than what my high school had at the time. Here, there was limitless potential. Tiffany also introduced me to the other ADs, PAs, boom operators, cameramen, make-up artists, and then last but certainly not least, the director.

“Jeffrey?” Tiffany called to the man sitting in the director’s chair. The man turned to face her and then me. “This is Christian Watkins. He’s the man we’re giving a behind-the-scenes scoop for his… blog?” She looked to me for confirmation, to which I nodded. “Yeah, for his blog.”

The man in the big chair stood up with a cool smile and classy charm and extended his hand for me to shake.

“Christian, nice to meet you,” the man spoke in a tenor pitch. “Jeffrey Bachmann,” he introduced himself.

I didn’t take too much time last night trying to read up on his bio, but from what I could tell at first glance I knew that he was about in his mid to late fifties, as his hair was greying and skin was starting to wrinkle, and I could see that he had a surprisingly calm and laid-back demeanor. Surprising to me, at least. I always thought directing was a high-paced, chaotic mess that never ceased to present a myriad of complications onset that’d make any man want to pull their hair out. But Jeffrey seemed calm, collected, and very personable.

“Hi, thank you for having me,” I replied. “Seriously, this is like a really cool opportunity for me and my blog.”

“Hey man, it’s my pleasure,” Jeffrey said. “I heard you got a big following behind your name. Props to you. I respect the work ethic, especially giving your readers what they really want to see, ya know?”

I shrugged modestly. “Well thank you, but this time was mostly in my own interest to seek out this idea for my current blog,” I said.

“Ah, an interest in GF, huh?” Jeffrey replied. “Well, what would you like to know? We’ve got nothing but time today. In fact, we’re just getting ready to shoot the mangle scene for today and then we’ll wrap it up before we review the dailies.”

“Mangle scene?”

“Oh yeah, if you’ve got a weak stomach or aren’t into gore you don’t have to watch.”

At least he gave me discretion. “Hmm, I think I’ll tough this one out,” I said. “For the blog.”

Jeffrey gave me a sincere but slightly unsettling grin. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

He was a nice guy so far, but you know how you just meet certain people that for whatever reason, out of their control, their aura seems off? Maybe it was my preconceived notion and warranted cynicism I had of people working in Hollywood. Just a bunch of sharks in a pool with hungry eyes for desperate young talents eager to take a dive in the spotlight. But as I’d imagine with any field, there had to be a decent share of lambs among the many wolves.

Suddenly, one of the makeup artists scampered over to us, their attention directly at Jeffrey.

“Hey,” they said to him with a noticeably fake inflection.

“Hey, what's up?” Jeffrey returned.

“Savannah? She’s losing it back there. Said she wants to talk to you and only you.”

Jeffrey nodded. “Don’t worry, I got it,” he said, as he patted his hand on the MUAs shoulder. He then gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Christian, duty calls, but hey, Tiffany?” he looked to the stern AD. “Make sure he gets a front-row view for the martini shot.”

“Yes sir,” Tiffany replied.

Jeffrey and the MUA stepped off to handle whatever business needed handling regarding one of the actresses backstage in the dressing room.

“Martini shot?” I asked.

“Last shot for the day,” Tiffany explained. “For me, that’s a term I like to take literally.”

She seemed so serious all this time that I found the joke almost funny.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There was now quiet on the set. Shooting was about to start shortly. At this point in the movie, the main character has a stand-off that turns into a big fight scene with the main bad guy at a warehouse factory building. At first, there’s a gunfight, then eventually they both run out of ammo and it comes down to a fistfight before finally having a standstill on top of a rail just over a giant industrial shredder.

Right now, the actor playing the bad guy, Will, is hanging on for his life over the rail above the shredder, while Thomas, the main good guy, is standing over him victoriously. My question was, is the shredder real? ‘Cause it sure as hell looks like it. It wasn’t turned on yet, but just from a glance it seemed legit enough that if I dropped something as sturdy as a microwave in there, it’d come out jelly on the other end.

For the blog, I told myself. For the blog…

Suddenly, my suspicions were confirmed once Jeffrey called to have the shredder turned on. The machine roared to life, the inverting sharp metal gears rotating past each other being a black hole eating everything that passes through it with no escape. Holy shit. It was actually fucking real.

Jeffrey gave the nod to the 1st AD, and the AD returned the same.

“Action!” the AD called.

Based on what Jeffrey showed me from the script, Thomas is supposed to stomp on Will’s hand that’s gripping onto the edge of the rail, causing him to fall to his death into the shredder. The camera was now rolling, yet, I didn’t see Thomas do the deed. Was he pausing for dramatic effect? Was he acting for the camera? I wasn’t quite sure why he was hesitating.

I peaked over to notice that Jeffrey, the once calm and collected man I met backstage earlier, was now beginning to seem noticeably impatient and about to snap at any moment. There was now that dark edge I noticed about him from before but couldn’t quite put a finger on that I could see now coming to light.

Hesitation filled Thomas’ veins, about to raise his foot, then not, dragging on the scene longer than intended. From this distance, I tried to see Will’s own expression, and I regret ever doing so. Surely he was acting, but I’ll be damned, it was too good. Whatever fear he portrayed transmuted itself into me now. It was the kind of fear that I didn’t think could be replicated on command. Jeffrey stood up from his seat, but just before he could say anything or call ‘cut’, Thomas stomped his foot down on Will’s hand, and we all watched as his fingers slip from the railing. Will sent out a bloodcurdling scream as he plummeted to his ‘death’. What followed will haunt me forever.

Do you know what it sounds like to have a person’s body mangled to death? Have you bitten into the bone of any sort of meat? Heard and felt the crunch? Or maybe even the crunch of celery? I myself have never broken a single bone in my body, but imagining what it might sound like other than what I’d heard in movies or video games all seemed elementary now. At first, I had to look away, but what forced me out of my seat to leave was Will’s horrifying screams. He’d fallen feet first into the shredder, so his lower body had to suffer first before reaching his upper body and finally silencing him at the head.

I ran to find the nearest trashcan and hurled. I guess I really didn’t have the stomach for gore, at least, not to this degree. Will’s screams kept looping in my head. It was a new primal sound that evoked a dread within me that I wish I never discovered. The sound of torment. One thing was for sure, Will was one fucking hell of an actor - if this was acting. But the shredder…

It seemed so real. And there was no greenscreen besides the ones to be used for the background later in post-production. I saw him fall right into the damn thing. With my own eyes. In living color. There were no edits, no crazy tricks, no lighting effects. There couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was sitting down trying to recuperate, as everyone else around me was wrapping up set for the day. Tiffany came over and handed me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it.

“You feelin’ better?” she asked.

“Hmm,” I answered with a scoff, raising both my eyebrows and taking a sip from the bottle.

“I’m surprised you stuck around if you had such a weak stomach. I mean, he at least warned you.”

“I usually don’t. But that?” I shook my head. “How do you guys do it? It looked so real.”

“I’m just pulling your leg. I almost vomited too my first time. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

If it was a shame to flinch at something so vile, I don’t wanna know what goes on in Jeffrey’s mind to even come up with such a scene. Speaking of which, I still didn’t get a one-on-one interview with him as I’d hoped. All I had was the end result of his ‘movie magic’, but not how he did it. At this point, I'm not sure I really wanna know.

I went to go get my belongings, which were left in one of the dressing rooms, and was stopped by the sound sniffling from the one a couple doors ahead of mine. I looked on the door to read whose room it belonged to. It read: SAVANNAH YOUNG. She was one of the lead actresses in the movie, or rather I should say the only actress in the whole film. With the makeup artist and Jeffrey thing that happened earlier, it was evident to me that something sour had gone on behind the scenes I didn’t know about.

The door was cracked open and I couldn’t see her face entirely from my view, but I knew she was sobbing. She looked to be sitting in front of her mirror. I was about to just ignore it and go on about my business.

I lightly knocked on the door. “You okay in there?” I asked.

She stopped and I could hear her get up and approach the door. She pulled it back just enough to where I could see her whole face. She was beautiful, just like Jamie, even if she had been crying.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Savannah said. “Thank you.”

There was a brief awkward moment of silence between us. Clearly, she wasn’t fine, but I didn’t wish to pry any further than that.

“Are you one of the new PAs?” she asked. I arched a brow. “Production assistant?” she clarified.

“Oh, no, I’m just a visitor,” I assured. “Writing for my blog. I was supposed to be writing about behind-the-scenes things and how it all works around here, but I bitched out from the ‘mangling scene’.”

Savannah gave a short nod. “I see,” she said. “Well… I don’t blame you.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the way she said it or just from the state that I was in, but her words gave me chills.

“I should get going,” I told her. “Nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” she replied, and then shut the door.

I got my stuff from the dressing room and got ready to head out. I wonder what could’ve made Savannah so down to where the director had to get involved and set her straight. Jeffrey seemed pleasant to work with at first glance, but who knows, maybe he had a mean streak to him after all, especially the way he looked during the shooting of the scene. God, I just wanted to forget about it. I can’t unhear the sounds. The bones crunching, the blood splattering, and the screaming. The fucking screaming…

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As I was leaving the studio lot, I noticed the cleaning crew of two men dump a large amount of black bags in the dumpster. From the way they swung the bags over into the bin, the shit didn’t seem light. The bags were in several different sizes, some small, some big, some disproportionate. I stood there and watched as the two men finished disposing of the junk and walked away to go about their other duties.

Regular, common sense me would’ve just picked up the phone, called Jamie to let her know I’m ready to get picked up, and go about my day. But the nosy blogger me kept itching…

I made sure the coast was clear and made my way over to the bin. I can’t believe I was actually dumpster diving, and for what? What did I really expect to find? In my head, I knew the answer, but was avoiding it, either out of how ridiculous it may sound or, God forbid, I was right.

The trash wasn’t stacked high enough from the bottom for me to simply reach, so I had to literally get in there myself. I climbed over on the other end, raised the lid, and jumped down on the piles of plastic bags, holding the lid up with my arm and my breath so I didn’t get a huge whiff of the smell. Though, if I did need to puke again, I supposed this would be the place to do it.

I immediately noticed the bags the men threw away, but in order for me to check what was inside, I’d have to crouch down and let the lid close on me. Fine. That’s what the flashlight on my phone was for. Surrounded in darkness and garbage now, I turned the flash on, illuminating the four dirty walls around me and I pulled back one of the bags. I felt around to try and see what sort of contents might be inside. Mush. It felt all mushy with chunks of solid and a little bit of liquid.

This was stupid, I thought. I realized how stupid I probably looked right then and there, sitting in a bin full of filth looking for clues like some sort of private detective. My followers have no idea how far I’d go, but this was ridiculous. Oh well, I’m too deep in it now, no pun intended.

I held my phone in my mouth as I used my hands to rip open the plastic. My heart began pounding as I slowly pried the bag open. Once I got a peek inside, shame and embarrassment came over me.

Food.

I should’ve just called Jamie to come get me. Had I really become that desperate? I threw the bag over and out of my way. Then I noticed the bag underneath had trickles of fluid. Curious, I shined the light down on it. They were red trickles. Considering how I’d just overreacted only to find a bag full of thrown out lunch, I wasn’t about to get all up in arms about finding red drops behind a Hollywood studio lot. I didn’t know the full recipe for fake blood, but if I recall correctly, Alfred Hitchcock used chocolate when they filmed the shower scene from Psycho.

I tried to follow the small trail and see if it led to another bag. I slowly pointed the light further up and it led me to the bag just behind the one I tossed to the side. Looks like it had a small bust that caused it to leak. When I pulled this one over, a very noticeable smell filled my nostrils and erased any other scent of the trash that surrounded me. It was a metallic, rusty sort of odor, like copper from a penny. However, that smell also belonged to something else…

I ripped open the bag, and with the shine of my light beaming down, I was welcomed to a bright crimson sight of mashed blood and guts. It had to be fake, I thought. It had to… but the way I recoiled from the putrid metallic fresh scent of carnage, my primal instincts told me that wasn’t the case. I innately knew that it was real. I was staring at Will’s mangled body.

Frozen from fear, I sat there for who-knows-how-long. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I’d call the cops first, of course, but they would need evidence, and even then they’d probably dismiss me after I told them I dove into the dumpster of a movie set where fake blood is a common prop. I’d tell Jamie the same, but she’d look at me crazy, too.

I unlocked my phone and started snapping pictures. As much as I could. I even opened some other bags and did the same. I tried to snap every bit of remains that was left of Will and saved them into my phone. It felt like a sick test to see how long I could hold my breath so I wouldn’t gag, and I think I broke a new record that day.

I snapped probably about 47 pictures on my phone before I finally shot up and threw open the bin. The wave of fresh air hit me like a truck, and enjoyed it for only a brief second before turning to see Jeffrey, Tiffany, and the other AD standing by his side. My soul left my body right then and there.

“Christian?” Jeffrey said, sounding concerned.

Fucking say something, I told myself. I did my best not to stutter and look stupid.

“Hey, Jeff,” I said, raising the inflection of my voice, probably sounding dumb.

“Going for a swim there?” Jeffrey joked.

I fake laughed, then put on my best acting skills. “I cannot for the life of me find my ring.”

“Your ring?”

“Yeah, my mom’s ring?”

Then, with the slick subtle motion, I hid my hands to where they couldn’t see them behind the walls of the bin, and with careful coordination used my fingers on my right hand to pull the ring I already had on and flicked it down onto the trash below. I shuffled my feet over the bags I stood on to make noise so they wouldn’t hear the ring drop. Please God, don’t let the ring hit the hard bottom floor or one of the rusty walls, I thought. To my relief, it didn’t.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, Christian, I haven’t seen it,” Jeffrey said, as he looked at the other two as they also shook their heads. “But we can definitely look around again and let you know if we find anything.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying not to make my voice tremble with anxiety.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get you outta there,” Jeffrey said, waving his hand over.

I nodded and shot a quick timid smile. I climbed out of the bin and faced the three before me, wiping myself down.

“Hands a little messy there,” Jeffrey said.

Anxiety raced through me again, but adrenaline had my back to make sure I didn’t fuck up by saying anything dumb.

“Oh, the fake blood?” I chortled. “Yeah, you guys lots of that shit in there. Smells like a chocolate factory.”

Jeffrey fell for it, and laughed. Good. But he could just as easily be playing me right now.

“Given how you ran off earlier back there I’m surprised you can stand to look at it, better yet, touch it,” he remarked.

“I’m sorry about that,” I stammered but stayed on track. “It’s just… I now see for myself, no one does it like GF.”

“Haha, you don’t have to flatter me to get back my respect. Don’t sweat it. I totally understand.”

Is that so? I thought.

“You could use that martini shot right about now, huh?” Tiffany joked.

Definitely not with her any time soon. Or any of them, for that matter.

“Well we’re just heading out for the day, you got a ride?” said Jeffrey.

“Yeah, I should probably call Jamie now and let her know I’m done,” I replied.

“It’s no problem, man, I can give you a lift. I can drop you off wherever you need me to.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Seriously, I insist-”

“Jamie and I got a spa appointment to catch in a bit. Otherwise I appreciate the offer.”

Jeffrey had a brief look in his eyes, a glint of what I could only compare to a wolf’s gaze hiding behind that sheep’s clothing he carried himself around as, and then smiled and nodded.

“Okay, Christian,” he said. “Once again, nice to meet you and I hoped you enjoyed the tour, and hopefully make some good content for your blog.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Thank you so much again. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s nothing, Chris,” Jeffrey said, throwing me off a bit. “Can I call you, Chris?’

I shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I called you Jeff by accident,” I said.

“It’s fine. Chris and Jeff it is.”

I needed to get away from here. Now and as fast as possible. But I still needed to do one more thing.

“Any chance I can wash these off inside?” I said, raising my bloodied hands.

“Oh of course,” Jeff said.

“I can lead him back,” Tiffany said, ready to go with, but Jeffrey stopped her.

“Ah, he knows his way in, right?” Jeff looked to me for reassurance.

“Yeah,” I answered confidently.

“Good, well hopefully I’ll see you around, Chris, and you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thank you, Jeff. And you all do the same.”

As I walked past them and towards the studio lot, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was being set up. Why hadn’t he let Tiffany escort me back inside? I’d think that would be customary for them to do for visitors entering and exiting the building. But I felt that they were watching me from behind, and with every step, I grew more and more anxious.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’d made it inside and the lot was now nearly empty and quieter. I didn’t see a single person in sight, and only a few lights remained on, making it mostly dark. I hurried the fuck up and did what I came to do, as I didn’t wanna be here any longer and didn’t feel safe.

Down the hall where the dressing rooms were, I rushed over to Savannah’s door, and saw that it was closed. I tried opening it only to see it was locked. Looking down, there was no light shining through the cracks either, meaning there was no one inside. She wasn’t there. Shit.

I washed my hands in the bathroom, scrubbing the dried blood off as thoroughly as possible, getting under nails and all, cringing at the thought of it being Will’s. Suddenly, I heard a noise from outside the hall leading to the bathroom. Petrified, my heart sank into my chest, and I froze. I shut the water off, and carefully approached the door. I listened for any other sounds as I placed my ear closer. After a few moments, I heard the noise again, but then realized that it seemed to be coming from one of the dressing rooms just outside in the hall.

Since I carry a notebook around most of the time for jotting down notes, I certainly always carry a pen. What most people don’t know is that I carry a military tactical pen for a variety of uses, and in times like these, it can be used as a subtle but effective weapon. I switched the tip from an ink ball to a small slick blade.

I opened the bathroom door and crept through the hall over to the dressing room door that made the noise, holding the pen underneath the breast pocket of my sweater. On the outside of the door, it read, “WILL BANKS.”

Confused, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Common sense me once again kept barking in my brain telling me to GTFO, but I had to be sure. I gave three shy knocks and waited. There was definitely someone in there because whatever noise I thought I heard from behind came to an utter halt. I could hear faint whispers of someone’s voice, and then another. There was more than one. My hand trembled as it tightly gripped the pen underneath with sweat as I heard whoever it was on the other end of the door approach.

It swung open, and there stood Will Banks, the man whose blood was just on my hands moments ago, alive and well, in the flesh. It couldn’t be, I thought to myself.

“Can I help you?” he said.

I just stood there, baffled, without answering. Behind him, I saw Savannah, who instantly recognized me and came over.

“Hi,” she said. “I thought everyone left.” She looked to Will. “He was visiting the set today for his vlog, or I’m sorry, blog.”

Will nodded, understanding now. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t get to meet you. Will Banks,” he said, pointing at his name on the door. “As you can see.” Savannah chuckled, and Will extended his hand for me to shake.

“Christian, or Chris,” I said, releasing the pen from inside my sweater and reaching my own hand out to take his. "Whichever you please."

He had a firm shake, and it felt uncanny considering what I’d just witnessed. I was touching him, feeling his skin and bone underneath, the warmth of his body temperature through the flesh. He was real. He was alive and breathing. That couldn’t be faked. That couldn’t be a visual effect. This was real. After we let go, suddenly my hand went cold. Everything about this seemed off and downright strange.

“Did you stick around for the shoot?” Will asked.

“I did, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, what’d you think?”

I wanted to say so many things right then and there, he had no idea.

“Um... y’all are some damn good actors,” I said.

Will laughed a bit, accepting my sham form of flattery, but Savannah, not so much. She gave one of those forced gestures as to not make it feel awkward, though, I noticed it right away.

“How do you do it?” I asked.

“I would give you some artistic bullshit answer like ‘study your craft’ or ‘years of training,' things like that, but honestly… it just kinda clicks, ya know?”

I fake chuckled. “No, I don’t. It looked kinda real from my end. Too real, I might add. Care to go into detail how you guys pulled it off?”

“Well, uh-”

Savannah interrupted. “Wait, you know what Jeffrey would say,” she whispered to him.

“I know, but it’s for his blog,” Will argued.

“But still.”

“I mean, Jeffrey’s not here, right?” I chimed in.

They both looked at me, then at each other. There seemed to be some sort of nonverbal understanding between them, and Will looked back at me.

“All right, for the sake of your blog, I’ll give you what I can to the best of my wording, that sound good?” Will proposed.

I took the pen back out from inside, switching it to the ink ball with a short click, and whipped out my small notebook. “Hit me,” I said.

“Get ready for this one. Basically, we’ve been using a new thing in the biz lately sort of like mocap but it’s not exactly. It’s also kinda like hologram sort of tech?”

“Really?” I said, eyes widened with interest as I wrote words down.

“Yep. That’s how we did it. What you saw, was as real as the hologram thingamajig allowed you to.”

“Hmm.”

“The shredder, too.”

“What?”

“The shredder. That was a hologram also.”

“Really? Okay…”

I finished writing on my notepad then turned it so that Will could read it.

BITE ME, I wrote with a big circle around it.

He laughed. Savannah did, too, but, again, in a strange nervous and restrained demeanor.

“That’s a nice story,” I said. “So if you’re ready to quit bullshitting with me, and tell the truth, I’m ready,” I spoke in a playful yet no-nonsense tone. “How’d you do it?”

“You’re good, man,” Will said with a smile, pointing his finger at me. “Like a true journalist.”

Any other day I’d be pleased to hear that, but I was serious. I needed to know, so much that I’d forgotten how long I’d actually been here. I told myself I was gonna leave as soon as I could, but now, for some reason after talking with Will and seeing how personable and genuine he came off, he put me a bit at ease. Maybe I was blowing this out of proportion. But then the screams echoed in my head again, and the smell...

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” I said.

“Look, I wish I could, honestly, but if I did, Jeffrey may not be too happy with either of us,” Will responded sincerely. That much was true, I could tell.

“All right, I think I tortured you enough,” I said, then immediately regretted my choice of words.

“No worries, man. Nice meetin’ ya. Good luck with the blog.”

“Thanks.”

I looked at Savannah one last time, and she looked back with a serious and almost scary gaze as though she needed to tell me something very bad. That’s who I came back for anyways. But that opportunity was a lost cause now, as I left with nothing and still no understanding of how Gemini Films did their visual effects? And I lost my mother’s ring. Fuck, I didn’t have time to go get it right now. I didn’t wanna risk being seen again. Hopefully, Jeffrey keeps his word and they somehow manage to give it back. That being said, I'd be fine with not having to see him ever again.

Whose blood was that? Whose body was that in the dumpster? Was it real? Was it actually just that well made to where the average person could be fooled into thinking it was actual flesh? Who’d go through the trouble of all that?

The screams of losing your life inch by inch, the sounds that would haunt me forever. And the smell of what was inside that bag. That instinctual gut feeling… how was it not real?

#writing #story #horror #nosleep #horror stories

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authenticcadence18 · 4 years

Text

Can’t Help Falling in Love Ch. 1

so uhhhhhhhhhhh.......i’m writing a Phinabella fic 😬

AO3

...

Phineas and Isabella are assigned the same song for their final project in their music appreciation class, and they have to work together to deliver a presentation based on it. They've been collaborating on projects together for their entire lives, so it should be easy, right?

Well. There's just one teeeeeeeeny problem. Their song is a love song.

This is a problem for Isabella because, despite her best efforts, she hasn't been able to let go of her feelings for Phineas.

And this is a problem for Phineas because he can barely be around Isabella without blushing and thinking about how wonderful she is.

Alas....the show must go on.

...

(story below the cut! also this fic is canon divergent and takes place a few months before “Act Your Age” would have. so...yeah!)

Wise men say, only fools rush in.

But I can’t help falling in love with you.

...

“Alright, class!!! As you know, summer is fast approaching...and for some of you, it will be your last summer before moving on to the next chapters of your lives! To finish off the year, I thought I’d make your final project fun! ...you know, before we go into ‘state-mandated final exam preparation’ mode.”

Ms. Chase--Danville High’s resident teacher of all things musical--looked around the classroom at her students, most of whom didn’t look too convinced at said final project being “fun” at all.

“You’re all going to be given a song to deliver a performance of! This performance can be live or recorded, and you can make a visual interpretation of the song if you’d rather not sing or play in front of the class. The most important part of the project is that you demonstrate an understanding of the meaning of the piece you are assigned.

“And also, there’s a short essay involved.”

The entire class groaned at that.

“Hey now, I’m just following orders from upper management!” Ms. Chase insisted. “And besides! You won’t have to write the essays by yourself, you’ll all have a partner to help you!

“....oh, did I fail to mention that this is a group project? Because THIS IS A GROUP PROJECT!!!”

This elicited another groan from the students.

“Oh come on! You get to pick your partners!”

She gestured to two buckets on either side of the classroom.

“Well….sort of. There are 24 of you, and each bucket contains twelve songs. I’ll divide you in half, everyone will pick a song, and then you’ll go around the classroom to find who has the same song as you. They’ll be your partner!!”

A student raised her hand.

“Yes, Adyson?”

“No offense, Ms. Chase, but isn’t this entire process unnecessarily complicated? We’re already divided into groups of two. Why can’t we just choose a song we’ve covered over the semester and do the project with our desk partners?”

Ms. Chase smiled at her student. “Excellent question, Adyson! Normally I would let you choose your own songs and partners...but this time around, I want to take all of you out of your comfort zones. You’re about to enter the real world as adults!! Hopefully, this little project helps you learn it can be fun to think outside the box and collaborate with people you wouldn’t normally.”

She considered these words for a moment before shrugging and continuing, “Or, you might learn that sometimes you have to work with people you don’t like to succeed in life. That’s a valid lesson too.”

A few students chuckled at that.

“Alright, left side of the room, over here! Right side, over there! Choose your songs and find your partners!!!” Ms. Chase gestured to buckets on either side of the room. “And once you find them, find a table and have a seat!! They’ll be your new desk partners for the rest of the semester.”

...

“Well, at least I tried…” Adyson muttered as she stood from the table she and Isabella shared. “Sorry we don’t get to work together.”

“It was a good effort!” Isabella replied encouragingly as they crossed the classroom. “But you know how Ms. Chase is...once she gets an idea, no matter how elaborate or wild it may seem, she has to see it through!”

“Sounds familiar,” Adyson noted with a smirk and a pointed glance at a certain boy standing across the room near the opposite bucket.

Isabella followed Adyson’s gaze. The gears in her head whirred for a second, and then the meaning of her statement sunk in. “...shut up, Adyson….” she grumbled with a frown, face flushing against her will.

...oh gosh. Was he looking at her?? Was he waving at her????

….why did he have to be so CUTE.

Isabella offered a forced smile in his direction and willed her heart to slow down as she looked away and continued after Adyson.

Upon reaching the bucket, Adyson dug around for a bit before withdrawing a sheet of paper. “Hey, I got ‘I’m Lindana and I Wanna Have Fun’’!! I love this song!!” she exclaimed happily as Isabella picked her own. “What did you get, Isabella?”

Isabella unfolded the slip of paper she’d taken from the hat...and her stomach dropped.

“...you’ve got to be kidding me.”

...

“So what songs do you think we’ll get, Phineas?”

“I’m not sure, Irving! We’ll just have to draw our songs and find out, huh?”

The bespectacled boy at Phineas’s side let out a dejected sigh. “Yeah….I wish WE could be partners….”

Though he’d never admit it, Phineas himself was rather relieved for the parameters of this particular project’s partner selection system. He liked Irving well enough, but after spending an entire semester sitting next to him in this music appreciation class (and several summers hanging out with him on occasion), he was more than ready for a bit of space from this particular friend.

Besides, there was someone else Phineas would rather be paired with instead…

His gaze subconsciously flickered across the room to a certain girl with a bow in her hair.

For a second, their eyes met because SHE WAS ALREADY LOOKING AT HIM.

Phineas managed to wave awkwardly in her direction without falling over.

She smiled back. Also awkwardly.

Adorably awkwardly.

“Whatcha lookin at?” Irving asked, glancing over Phineas’s shoulder.

“NOTHING!!!” Phineas blurted out, sharply turning his head the other way and willing his face to PLEASE STOP BLUSHING BEFORE ISABELLA NOTICED because WHAT IF SHE WAS STILL LOOKING AT HIM?? “I’m not looking at...nothing!!! Let’s just, uh…”

He flew at the bucket and thrust his hand in, pulling out the first song he grasped.

“Let’s just pick our songs!!!!”

Phineas unfolded the piece of paper in his hands, ready for the sense of relief that would swirl around him once he had a song and a creative vision in his mind.

….but the song he’d chosen didn’t bring any relief. If anything, it made the amount of butterflies currently fluttering around in his stomach increase tenfold.

“......oh boy.”

...

“Let me see!! Let me see!!!”

Isabella passed the scrap of paper to Adyson without a word, face blank. Adyson squinted at it before bursting into laughter.

“Adyson!!!!” Isabella hissed. “This isn’t funny!!! I don’t want to sing a love song!! Not in front of the whole class!! And certainly not in front of…”

She bit her lip.

“...well, you know!!!”

Adyson just rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Isabella. It isn’t as if you haven’t sung love songs in front of him in the past!!”

“...that’s the problem…” Isabella muttered, putting out a facade of irritability to hide the very real hurt growing in her chest.

Isabella had spent literal YEARS distancing her heart from her feelings for Phineas. Liking him and trying day in and day out to communicate her feelings to him with no success eventually became too painful to bear. Thus, she’d boarded up all those messy emotions and poured her efforts into school and work instead. She even intentionally went out of her way to avoid listening to any songs with romantic connotations (happy or sad), because they always reminded her of HIM.

So how was she supposed to stand in front of a classroom and deliver an authentic performance of a love song while he watched without thinking about him and the feelings she still harbored for him despite everything and how wonderful he was and….

“...maybe my partner will want to make a video instead…” she muttered quietly.

Adyson glanced at her friend and blanched when she noticed her downtrodden expression. “Oh gosh, please don’t get sad!!” she said quickly, placing a hand on Isabella’s shoulder. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have teased you. ...do you want to trade songs?”

Isabella sniffled and shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay...I need to do this. Maybe it will be therapeutic, in a way.

“And I don’t want to take your song away from you. You go have fun, girl!”

...

“What song did you get?” Irving asked, trying to sneak a peek at Phineas’s paper.

“Oh, just an Elvis song!” Phineas replied quickly.

He wasn’t particularly eager to discuss his song with Irving. Irving liked to talk.

More specifically, Irving liked to talk about HIM.

And Phineas didn’t want him discussing the fact that he was singing a love song to a class full of people that seemed to be all too aware of his own unrequited feelings for a certain classmate among them.

“What about you?” Phineas asked, eager to change the subject. “What song did you get?”

“I don’t know!!” Irving grasped a song from the bucket and unfolded it. His eyebrows furrowed. “...‘I’m Lindana and I Wanna Have Fun’? I think my MOM likes this song.”

“Hey, that’s a great song!!” Phineas said with a smile. He looked to the left and the right, feigning secrecy, before whispering, “...MY mom IS Lindana, you know….”

Irving’s eyes widened. “WHAT????? ...HOW DID I NOT KNOW THAT???”

Phineas let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Irving’s gleeful smile grew wider and wider.

He suspected his own song was far from Irving’s thoughts at the moment.

“Well, I’m gonna go figure out who my partner is,” Phineas said. “Have fun! And if you want to talk to my mom about being Lindana at any point, I’m sure she’d love to chat with you and your partner!”

He left Irving hyperventilating excitedly in the corner.

Now to unpack the thoughts swirling around in his own head.

Phineas had to present a love song to the class.

And not just any love song.

A love song that hit a little too close to home concerning Phineas’s own love life…or lack thereof.

...it wasn’t like he’d WANTED to realize the fluttery, weightless way Isabella had always made him feel was in fact NOT normal and NOT how everyone felt around her.

Especially right before they started high school.

He didn’t ASK to turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever he saw her or even thought about her from that point on (which wasn’t as often as he would have liked...they’d seemed to drift apart JUST as he figured out his own feelings for her).

But Phineas couldn’t help it.

Isabella was just...so amazing.

How could he NOT be in love with her?

...and more pressingly, how was he supposed to discuss such a song with whoever his partner ended up being AND sing said song in front of their classmates without thinking of Isabella and dissolving into a blushy mess?

...

“...what song did you get, Ginger?”

“‘Chop Away At My Heart!’ I’m kinda surprised Ms. Chase even assigned this song, since it’s way more modern than what I was expecting. I’m not complaining though! Baljeet is obsessed with it, so I already know all the words!”

“That’s good!!”

“What song did you get?”

“Oh uh…..you know what, why don’t you just read the title for yourself?”

“....oh wow......have fun with that.”

...

“Hey, Phineas, what song are you doing?”

“Oh, it’s an Elvis song.”

“Nice! I have a Love Handel song.”

“Oh cool! Those guys are awesome.”

“Oh yeah, you’ve met them before, right?”

“Yup!! My siblings and I got them back together for our parents anniversary when we were kids. It was pretty cool. And then one time we helped them out by finding Klimpaloon to prove one of their songs was factual…”

“So awesome!! You know, I can’t wait to see your presentation! I’m sure it will be amazing, just like everything else you’ve made!”

“Oh, uh, yeah… I’m sure it’ll be great. I can’t wait to see yours!”

...

Gradually, pairs of students began forming as they matched songs with one another and took their seats to start brainstorming for their projects.

It eventually got to the point where only a few students remained searching for their partners.

Two of said students were, of course, Phineas and Isabella.

For the past ten minutes or so, they’d both done a remarkably effective job of avoiding one another. Isabella wanted to prolong the inevitable reality of presenting a love song in front of Phineas for as long as she dared, and Phineas didn’t trust himself to be able to casually discuss his song with Isabella without blushing as red as his hair.

They’d been so busy avoiding each other, in fact, that they didn’t realize neither of them had partners yet...until suddenly they were the only students left standing.

Isabella hadn’t considered this scenario. There were 23 other students in the class, and 11 other students besides Phineas choosing out of the other bucket. Statistically speaking, she’d had a pretty low chance of being partnered with him.

And EMOTIONALLY speaking, her brain had apparently refused to consider this scenario...the one where Phineas was the only student left standing...the one where Phineas clutched his piece of paper tightly to his chest, as if he didn’t want anyone else to see it...the one where he looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher but nonetheless made her head spin a little…

...the one where Isabella would almost CERTAINLY be forced to confront her feelings head-on for the first time in years.

In retrospect, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.

Isabella had always had interesting luck when it came to Phineas.

Phineas couldn’t move. Isabella was the only other student still standing, still looking for her partner, and he couldn’t move. His feet were stuck to the ground, as if he’d worn his heavy-duty steel-tipped sneakers by mistake today.

But he hadn’t worn his heavy-duty steel-tipped sneakers by mistake today.

The only thing keeping him glued to the ground was fear. And nervousness. And disbelief. And maybe a little bit of awe because was Isabella wearing a new bow today? It was pretty. She was pretty.

….Ok. So more than just fear was keeping him glued to the ground.

The thoughts in Phineas’s head were loud, far louder than any discussions his classmates might have been having with one another.

He was going to have to sing a love song with Isabella. He was going to have to discuss said song’s inherent romantic themes with Isabella. He was going to have to spend a lot of time in the next few weeks hanging out with Isabella.

A spark of clarity, of longing, emerged from that last thought.

He was going to get to spend a lot of time in the next few weeks hanging out with Isabella.

….he missed spending time with Isabella.

This realization gave Phineas the strength to finally lift his feet from the ground and walk towards his partner. She didn’t move as he approached: rather, she just gazed at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

If Phineas hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought she was stuck just like he had been. He might have even let his heart flutter a bit.

(But Phineas knew better. Isabella had no reason to be stuck. He was the lovestruck one here. Not her.)

“So uh...I guess we’re partners, huh?” Phineas voiced as he came to a stop at Isabella’s side. “ Keep it cool ,” he thought sternly. “ Isabella is your friend and you want to spend time with her and need to discuss the project with her. That’s it. No blushing. No stammering. Don’t think about how cute she looks. Don’t think about the lyrics of the song you’re presenting together. You’re just hanging out. Keep it together .”

Isabella managed a dry chuckle. “It appears so,” she replied. “Should we check our songs, just in case?”

Maybe there’d been some sort of mix up?

“Uh...yeah, I guess so,” Phineas replied hesitantly. He suddenly didn’t want to show her the scrap of paper clutched in his hands...though he knew it was irrational, he felt that showing her would be as revealing as a confession of his feelings, as if she could read his mind just by reading the title of the song he’d--no, they’d--been assigned.

“ It’s just a song… ” he assured himself as he opened his hands to reveal the paper inside.

...but it wasn’t really just a song.

“Here.” Isabella held her scrap out to Phineas as she accepted his.

Deep down, before they even confirmed the fact, they both knew there hadn’t been a mix-up with the papers. There were no other students standing, so there was no reason for them not to have been assigned the same song.

(And obviously they’d been assigned the same song...because if they hadn’t, this wouldn’t be much of a story, would it?)

“Ah, I see Isabella and Phineas are our last pair of partners!” Ms. Chase exclaimed, causing both of them to start. “What song did you guys get?”

Phineas and Isabella’s eyes met, and though there was no way, NO WAY, the other understood how they were feeling in this moment, there was a sense of solidarity...and maybe something more...in their gazes.

They could do this.

“....we got ‘‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’.”

...

Thank you sm for reading!!! This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I've ever posted, so the fact that you are reading it at all means the world to me🥰. (Writing Phinabella fic is how I got started writing fanfiction, but this is the first one I've ever posted so...it's a little nerve-wracking, haha!)

I will be posting more soon!!! I have the gist of the story planned out (and parts of a later scene already written 😶), now I just need to write it!

Also THANK YOU @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for being my beta, even though you don’t know much about this fandom, and for being so encouraging!!! :))))

#cadence writes #aksdjfkasdhfkajsdk i can't believe i'm posting this #aaah #phineas and ferb #phinabella #phinbella #phineas and isabella #isabella and phineas #phinabella fanfic #this is just like...peak self indulgence #LOL #isabella garcia shapiro #phineas flynn #can’t help falling in love

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the1918 · 4 years

Text

Bespoke, Chapter 5 is taking me a stupid amount of time to finish, and I feel so bad about it that I’m going post post a teaser here :) This is about a quarter of the chapter. Hope you like it!

Teaser for Bespoke, Chapter 5

[Story No. 2 in the Compatibile A/B/O Universe]

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Cap Steve Rogers / Modern Bucky Barnes), of the bearded Alpha Steve and Omega twink!Bucky subvariety

Rating: Story Rated E for Explicit, this excerpt Rated T for Teen

Tags: A/B/O, sugar daddy!Steve

***

December 15

Thursday - 2:15 P.M.

Elevators in medical buildings always smelled like rubbing alcohol and iodine, which was definitely not Bucky’s favorite smell. He breathed through his mouth instead of his nose as the elevator descended the fourteen floors from Dr. Pete’s office suite, down to the ground floor.

Bucky had left work early that day to catch his monthly blood work appointment. Unpleasantly sterile smells aside, he was breathing especially easy that afternoon, for two reasons. First, he had finally wrapped up the enormous project he’d been working on in his lab for almost eight months, and he’d passed it off to the StarkTech testing department. Getting that load off his plate was a massive relief, and it came at the perfect time; he could now embark on his Vermont vacation (tomorrow!) with Steve and leave behind the weight of work on his shoulders. Second, the results of Bucky’s blood work had shown his hormone levels right where Dr. Pete had expected them to be, based on the Heat time-table they were anticipating. No early Heat.

Bucky was more stress-free than he could remember feeling in six months.

As he stepped out of the elevator to the ground floor, Bucky immediately felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text message from Steve.

[2:15 P.M.] Stevie: Done at Pete’s yet?

Instead of walking out onto the cold, winter-time city streets, Bucky found a bench in the lobby and sat down to respond.

[2:16 P.M.] Sent: Yep, just finished.

[2:16 P.M.] Stevie: Great. Any surprises?

Bucky knew Steve was referring to his blood work. He typed out his response knowing Steve would be relieved by the results, just as Bucky was.

[2:17 P.M.] Sent: Nope. Everything was where Dr. P thought it would be.

[2:18 P.M.] Sent: He says I look on track for April, maybe February if it comes early.

Bucky watched his phone. There was no response from Steve for a while, and Bucky worried that he may have spooked him with details about their time-table. The two hadn’t talked about Bucky’s next Heat much at all since their first and only therapy visit with Dr. Welsh, but Bucky knew it was hanging over their heads. If his Heat came within the conservative margin of error that Dr. Pete had estimated, they could theoretically be dealing with it in less than 60 days. With it would come Steve’s rut, and if they didn’t make any significant, tangible progress on the knotting issue before then, they could very well be dealing with something they weren’t ready for emotionally. The pressure, however silent, was there.

His phone vibrated again just as he was pulling out his gloves to head out onto the street.

[2:22 P.M.] Stevie: Good to hear. You got any other plans this afternoon?

Bucky frowned. He wondered if Steve was going to ask him for a late lunch, and he wished he hadn't already eaten.

[2:23 P.M.] Sent: No. Was gonna come home for the day, help you out with the lighting installation.

[2:23 P.M.] Sent: Why?

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: Because you have plans now.

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: [Blue Serenity Spa] - You’ve Been Sent a Link on Google Maps!

His confused frown deepened as he clicked the link. It took him to the location of some sort of day spa in northwest Brooklyn, not far from their apartment. Before Bucky could text back a ‘???’, another text from Steve came through.

[2:25 P.M.] Stevie: You have an open-ended appointment starting at 3:15 P.M. Any and all services you ask for. I got you scheduled for a massage already, but you can change that if you want.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: They have my card info. Don’t you dare to even think about looking at the price list.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: Better go catch the next train baby ;)

Flabbergasted, thumbs paralyzed and seemingly unable to type out another text, Bucky decided to just hit the call button on Steve’s contact. He placed the phone to his ear and he suddenly felt antsy as he waited for Steve to pick up. There was no ‘hello’ when the ringing stopped, only Steve’s teasing voice.

“I thought I told you to head for the train?”

“Steve,” Bucky began, emphatically. “What is this? You booked me a spa appointment?”

Steve was silent on the other end of the line for a long moment, and Bucky wondered if it was because he was more nervous than his confident communication let on.

“Yeah, angel. I did. Look,” Steve sighed, “you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d like this, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“Woah,” Bucky interjected. “Hang on, I never said I didn’t like it. I just… I guess I don’t know why you want — why you think I deserved—”

“—You don’t know why I think you deserved to be pampered, Buck?” Steve interrupted, incredulous. “Really? After you just worked your ass off at work for months to finish a project that no one else could have even dreamed of doing? The technology that Tony’s been yapping to me about since before I even knew you?”

“It’s still technically in R&D,” Bucky muttered, blushing. Steve had always been supportive and enthusiastic about Bucky’s engineering work, but it still never ceased to make him feel a little bashful when Steve got to actually raving about him and his skills.

“Yeah, and the finished product is going to be amazing, because Bucky fucking Barnes developed it.”

Bucky laughed and fiddled with a thread on his sweater.

“You… you’re sure? I’ve never really been to a spa like that before, and it looked really nice on Google…”

“And it will be nice for you, which is exactly what I want.”

“Stevie…” Bucky smiled to himself and shook his head, a little at a loss for words. “I really was going to come home and help, you know. It takes more than two hands to put up some of those bigger fixtures.”

“Doesn’t have to be your hands, though. That’s why Sam is here.” Sure enough, in the background of the phone call Bucky suddenly heard Sam’s voice, hollering something that sounded a lot like, ‘go get a fucking rub down, Barnes!’.

Steve chuckled, and then Bucky thought he could hear him walking away.

“Also…” Steve said, volume lower, “last night, you put a plug in your ass and begged me to nail you on Tony’s conference room table. I think treating my baby to a spa appointment is the least I can do when you’ve just fulfilled multiple fantasies I didn’t even know I had.”

Bucky barked out a laugh at that. He looked down at the clock on his new smart watch—another gift from Steve—and realized that he really did have to head for the train if he was actually going to do this. He stood up and grabbed his bag.

“Alright… alright,” he conceded. Steve’s smile was almost audible through the phone. “You’ve convinced me. Thank you, Stevie.”

“No thanks necessary, baby. I wish you would let me treat you like this all the time, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Finally walking out onto the cold and busy sidewalk, Bucky was just about to say his goodbye and hang up when Steve chimed in again.

“By the way, I just put in a call to Tony. You’ll be hearing from him very soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Shit. Did he figure out what we did? I mean, cleanup was a bitch, and we definitely had to throw away that undershirt after using it as towel, but I think we did a pretty good job covering our tracks? God, I’m gonna be in such deep shit with him—”

“No, nothing like that,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, there’s no way he doesn’t know, but he also knows damn well that he better come to me first if he’s got a problem with it. Besides… He probably considers it payback.”

“Payback? For what?”

“A story for another time,” Steve promised. “Are you at the station yet?”

“I’m walking there right now.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go. Have a relaxing time, baby. You deserve it. And use your time there, okay? I don’t want to see you home before six. Hell— keep ‘em ‘till they close, if you can manage it.”

“Okay,” Bucky laughed. “Thank you, Steve. Seriously… and I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I really love you when you let me spoil you.” Bucky could practically hear Steve wink. “Bye, honey.”

As Bucky walked the familiar route to the subway station, his phone dinged again, this time from Tony.

[2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: I literally cannot look at your face after what you did to my conference room with your jackass boyfriend.

[2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Do not come in tomorrow.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Consider it extra paid vacation, you disgusting pond scum.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Seriously. I better not see you or your vile beau again until January.

Bucky probably looked like an idiot laughing so hard alone in public, but he didn’t care.

[2:46 P.M.] Sent: Thanks Tony. Merry Christmas.

[2:47 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Yeah, and Happy fucking New Year.

Bucky stuffed his phone in his pocket and abandoned himself to his thoughts as he jogged down the steps into the station, marveling at the wonder that was his boyfriend. Sometimes, he still could not believe that Steve was his. Steve—who had not only been a supportive partner to Bucky from the very beginning, but who was also a powerful and attentive lover, and—most importantly—the single greatest source of Bucky’s joy. By the time he reached the subway platform, waiting for the train, the sudden enormity of his gratitude for Steve had begun to bubble up and spread within the depths of Bucky’s chest, and he felt fit to combust with it. He had to remind himself just to breathe.

How had he gotten so lucky?

***

I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! Their relationship is about to head in a very special direction, starting in this chapter.

#my fic: bespoke #bespoke teaser

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lethendralis-paints · 4 years

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Artist Meme

Was tagged to answer this set of interesting questions by @kourvo

(original post is here: https://kourvo.tumblr.com/post/621355098110640128/artist-meme

Thank you so much for that!

Let’s see....

1) What is the character you've drawn the most (Can be original or fanart)

This precious boy. I can never get enough of him. One of the most compelling characters I have ever come across. Love everything about Fenris and can relate to him on so many levels!

2. What colour do you often use?

Gray and brown are my faves. And all other colours have the same chance of appearing in my artwork :D

3. Any colour you are bad at using?

I don’t think so...I love them all, even the pinks and yellows people usually find hard to incorporate into a colour palette. Tell me in the comments if I’m wrong :)

4. When drawing people, where do you start?

Funnily enough - either with the front of the hairline or with the left eyebrow. Don’t ask me, why - I don’t know myself.

5. What is a character only your eraser will love?

Hmmmm...any sort of villainous character. I can’t draw evil people convincingly. I’m a huge softy at heart.

6. Which of your works took the longest time?

Big scale commission I did for @pikapeppa, featuring all the Inquisition companions, along with Fenris, Rynne and Carver Hawke. That one took almost 3 weeks, due to its sheer scope and my relative lack of experience in such large works. Pika was extremely patient with me though, for that I am eternally thankful!

7. What techniques do you use when you want to improve in drawing?

Classical art studies. Varying my technique, themes I choose and software I use. I try to experiment and go outside my comfort zone often.

8. What do you think of the art of the person who gave you this ask meme?

I adore Lillymon’s technical skill, refined style and limited colours! She is a huge inspiration for me!

9. What art tools/media are you good with?

DrawPile, Photoshop, graphite pencils and liners. That’s about it :)

10. Art tools/media you are bad at?

Traditional paints. I have no formal artistic education and my lack of knowledge comes to the forefront whenever I have to paint on a real canvas. It’s so much trial and error, you can’t even imagine....

11. What do you think about your own art?

Lately it’s one of the last few things that were bringing me joy. I hope I won’t lose the passion for it. Because at this point I’m not sure I’ll be able to find some occupation I will be genuinely interested in and good at it. I don’t know if me gravitating towards moody fantasy art speaks about my fear of facing reality. If so, idk what to do with that. I do hope to develop my skills and being able to support myself financially as an artist.

12. Do you consult references for your drawings?

Yes. A lot of them. Anatomical atlases, schemes for both academic and manga art, photographs found online and taken on my own, copying colour palettes from classical art - anything goes. I think it’s essential to develop your technical skill.

13. What do you like about your art?

Lately - consistency, both in terms of produced results and in sticking to the timelines I set to myself. I hope this lasts. I would also like to branch out to other themes and not confine myself to quirky fantasy characters, so I’m working on developing my own story behind the scenes (spoilers) :P

14. What habits do you have while drawing?

Only the bad ones, lol. Hunching forward in front of the screen, forgetting to eat, drink and letting my eyes rest. Tilting my head to the side instead of rotating the canvas....I’m an idiot XD

15. Are you good at drawing faces facing right?

I think that’s the thing I’m good at!

16. How frequently do you draw?

For the last 1,5 years - almost every day without fail, for good or ill.

17. What do you do when you have artist's block?

Change occupation and work myself into a depressed state. I changed work places in the last few years a lot, working as an interior designer, draftsman, textile designer, a cook, a bartender to name a few.

18. What must you have when you draw?

No commotion around me and a cup of some hot beverage.

19. Do you have a lot of stray lines (messy lineart)?

In the starting stage of my work process - yes, like you wouldn’t believe! If it’s a personal doodle, I sometimes just leave in as am under layer and draw clean lines on top of that mess. It looks cool in a way.

20. What is drawing to you?

An essential part of what helped me to retain my sanity in the last year and a half. Hopefully a lasting profession that will help me pay bills and survive on my own, if my life falls apart entirely later.

21. Your art goal from now on?

Broaden the themes I depict, improve my technical skill, work on personal creative project and not only fan arts. And most of all - not giving up on it this time.

22. Artists you've had influence from?

To name a few: @kallielef @kourvo @shayafury @fairsparrow who I met here on Tumblr, and many others who I follow and zealously study their works for clues on how to improve my own work.

23. Artists you like?

I am following them all either here or on Instagram, I also do my best to share their works on my side blog!

24. Which is easier to draw, humans or animals?

It was animals earlier. But now that I started to diligently study human anatomy, I would say it evened out! I’m quite confident drawing humans/humanoids now!

25. Show us an old drawing

My first digital drawing from 2010 when I first bought my tablet!

26. What is the charm-point of your art?

I ummm....I don’t really get the question? Is that like the the strongest suit of me as an artist? Intense expressions maybe? Idk. Let me know in the comments :D

27. What is the first thing you would draw if we're talking about fantasy?

Broody warriors, he-he

28. Please draw your most beloved character:

Here’s a sneak-peek of me drawing him right now! :D

29. When thinking of characters is it mostly female? male? or androgynous/no sex?

I usually gravitate towards depicting strong-willed, caring, passionate, brave, honest men and women.

30. What did you draw yesterday?

Started cleaning up that sketch from the last question, actually!

31. What is the funnest part to draw?

A circle. Mostly because you’d die laughing seeing my struggle to draw a believable one XD

32. What part of other people's drawings do you notice first?

colours, mood, eyes, hands.

33. Regarding backgrounds, what is your method of making it easier to draw?

pick your favourite textured brush, find a good reference for mood and colour scheme, zoom out, squint your eyes and start slapping colours like mad. You’d be amazed at how much you’ll be able to achieve in 30 minutes with this approach. Bare white background is the enemy - destroy it! >:)

34. What colour coordinations do you like?

Gray or brown as a main colour and then deep, earthy, saturated colours to complement the main one. Pink and orange is the combination I strangely enjoy using lately too.

35. What character did you last draw? Fenris and Eris :)

36. Does your style change easily?

I don’t think so. More like it’s evolving slowly into something more serious and deliberate.

37. What part of drawing do you pay most attention to?

Facial expression, body movement, mood and light effects. Not so much the composition and framing, he he.

38. How do you feel about drawing adult art?

Tbh, I don’t consider straight up porn to be ‘adult’ exactly. To me adult art means aiming towards serious topics, exploring complex emotions and ideas, being honest with your viewer. I did doodle a few more steamy sketches of my OTP just to see if I could, but it was definitely a tongue-in-cheek kind of a artwork that I don’t take seriously.

39. Do you like criticism from others?

If it’s friendly and in done in private - I welcome it always.

40. How many people do you normally draw per artwork?

1 or 2. Rarely more. Crowded battle scenes are definitely not my thing :D

This was fun! Tagging forward to @shayafury @schoute @stella-minerva @nug-juggler @kallielef and anyone else wishing to go through such a long questionnaire!

#artist meme #art questions #art style #lethendralis rambles #my art

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thesims4blogger · 4 years

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The Sims 4 Nifty Knitting: Knitting Deep Dive

SimGuruConnor has released a forum post providing details on The Sims 4 Nifty Knitting!

Welcome back to our latest – and last! – Deep Dive into the gameplay of The Sims 4 Nifty Knitting Stuff Pack. I’ve really enjoyed sharing the designs and development of this pack with you, and I hope to continue doing these sorts of posts in the future. It’s been a super cool experience, and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading these!

In today’s post I’ll talk about the feature that is core to everything in this pack, Knitting! Once again, I have to remind you that we’re still in active development on the pack and so some things may change between now and the final game.

Now, let’s talk about some nifty knits!

We have one more knitting basket coming too! Remember this one?

Your projects are saved to your Sim, so you can pause your progress at any time and resume later, and even juggle multiple projects at once. Starting a project costs a small amount of Simoleons for the cost of yarn, but nothing too outrageous.

(Children can knit too!)

As a Sim levels up their knitting skill they’ll have access to new patterns. They’ll start with knitting socks and beanies, but as they grow more skilled they can tackle more challenging projects like sweaters and toys for kids. But if you only want to specialize in one thing – perhaps knitted mailbox cozies? – that’s fine too! Just keep knitting anything and everything, and you’ll be level 10 before you know it.

Speaking of knitting skill, sometimes your skill is reflected in your knitted work, or rather your lack of skill. Knitting projects can fail, and when they fail they can get weird. But it’s all subjective, and maybe you’ll end up accidentally knitting the cutest derpy companion, or the perfectly itchy sweater. No mistakes, only happy accidents!

(Just own it.)

One of the niftiest parts of the knitting skill is unlocking the ability to Teach to Knit, where Sims sit down together and have a knitting pow-wow. We wanted this to feel special, so we got a really sweet animation for it (Thanks Haeju!). Now that you can infect other Sims with the knitting bug, no yarn ball will be safe!

(The knitting needles aren’t finished on the Teach To Knit interaction yet, but trust me it’s SUPER CUTE.)

So, what can you do with all these knitting projects? Lots of stuff!

Not only can knitted objects be listed on Plopsy, but you can also Donate them to charity. If you want to surprise a loved one, try Gifting a knitted object too. If you want to destroy all traces of your knitted failures, you can Frog the object and start again! If it’s a particularly nice Sweater that you made, consider Adding it to Wardrobe to make it available in Create-A-Sim to all family members.

(Everyone appreciates a nice gift!)

We want Sims to be able to knit something for their whole family. Not only will Sims be able to knit Toddler Onesies, but Baby Onesies as well. So put your little grubworm in a handmade knitted outfit. I’m sure they’d thank us if they could! (And if they didn’t like it I’m sure they’d be polite about it.)

(Here’s a sneak peek at some of the concept art for new clothing for the littlest of Sims!)

It also felt like a good idea to add an Aspiration to tie this passion for knitting all together. So if you want to master the fuzzy art of knitting, consider signing your Sim up for the Lord(or Lady) of the Knits Aspiration. With yarn running through your veins, there will be no knitting mountain too hard to conquer! Master the Aspiration and you’ll be rewarded with the Sacred Knitting Knowledge trait. What does it do? Lots of stuff! What does it unlock? Something special! Am I being vague? I am! Come on guys, I can’t share all the secrets quite yet.

Now let’s have a chat with our lead Object Modeler, Beth Mohler!

Conor: Can you tell us a little bit about what an Object Modeler does on The Sims 4?

Beth: As an object modeler I spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to make objects work in The Sims 4. This is actually a very involved process, and somewhat different from the wonderful work our environment team does. We work with designers, concept artists, engineers, animators, vfx artists (basically everyone!) to make sure that Sims can use an object properly in an animation, or that all of our objects will work with each other. Once we understand the design for a new object, we will create a rig, a block model (a very generic version of the object used to help us make more of the same object in the future), and a footprint (tells us where the object can go and how Sims move around it). Once those are tested by animators and other disciplines we can model the final version, create UVs, and add textures. We also hook up and test everything in the game to make sure it all looks good. There is a lot to think about when it comes to making objects because we know players can find so many interesting ways to place and use them in game. That makes it a very fun challenge to make them work with everything else we’ve built before.

Conor: What feature are you most excited to work on in Nifty Knitting Stuff?

Beth: I’d say I am most excited to work on the rocking chairs! I love that we are bringing them to the game and can’t wait to see them in some cozy living rooms or on porches.

Conor: What are some of the challenges you are facing working on this pack?

Beth: One of the biggest challenges is ensuring that the knitting itself looks good and is fun to watch! This is a challenge given that it needs to work for everything you can create. Figuring this out takes a lot of iteration between modeling, animation, engineering, design, and art direction so that we come to a conclusion that will work the best given our time and technical constraints.

Another interesting “challenge” is the fact that I crochet as a hobby myself! When you are knowledgeable about something (yarn!) in real life, working on it in the game it can sometimes be hard to separate the things you know and may expect in reality from what is possible or best within a video game. I have to make sure to keep a balance and to conceptualize how we can best convert the knitting experience into The Sims 4. As someone who also generally enjoys interior design and architecture, this is actually one of my favorite challenges and one of the things I love about working on objects in The Sims 4.

Conor: What is your favorite feature you have ever worked on in The Sims 4?

Beth: I think it has to be a tie between the mini fridge or the robotics table in Discover University. That pack was the first time I got to really take an entire feature from start to finish. I’ve been with Maxis for a while, but I’m relatively new to The Sims 4. Both of these objects had some complex features we wanted that required a lot of iteration. I learned a ton about the technical aspects of our game during the process as well. I’ve also worked on a few very cool things between then and now, but those can’t be shared yet ; )

As a fan of The Sims since the very beginning I am so happy to be able to share a little about what I do on a daily basis on The Sims 4 with you! I haven’t been on The Sims 4 for quite as long overall, but some of you may also recognize me from my time on Sims Mobile where I shared some of our workflows on Twitter for making a juice bar. Thanks!

Conor: You shared a screenshot of the In-Progress Rocking Chair in our Rocking Chair Deep Dive. Can you share an updated screenshot now that the Rocking Chair is further along?

Beth: I would love to! I hope everyone has been enjoying seeing the progress on this object so far! Here it is a little further along. This program allows us to set the rules for the object materials, footprint size and rig it should use, as well as all the color variants and swatch colors you see in the catalog.

While this concludes my design Deep Dives, we still have more forum posts with development insights on the way! Keep checking the Community Stuff Pack forum and we’ll have more fun stuff to show off in the weeks to come.

Until next time, SimGuruConor

#news #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #stuff pack

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squeeneyart · 4 years

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 6

AO3

Beta reader was @thesnadger!

Work dynamics are discussed.

Simon Fairchild offers some direction.

The sun finally peeked through the clouds as they walked across town. Things began to warm up, but Jon kept his hands firmly around the mug, sniping back and forth with Tim about appropriate attire for weather conditions. Martin and Sasha walked some paces ahead of the bickering pair.

“Hey, Martin, can we talk?” Sasha said, hefting the recorder bag more securely on her shoulder. “Jon told me about the conversation you two had yesterday.”

Heat rushed to the tips of Martin’s ears, and he thanked the cold for making his face pink. “We did, yeah. So... you know everything?”

“Yeah, I know that the lighthouse can’t keep secrets. I also know that, despite everything you heard, you’re still able to work with Jon and help us out, so thanks for that. It’s not something you have to do for us.” Sasha twisted a dark curl of hair with her finger. “And, sorry. I know I said some not so nice things myself. Might as well get that out there, too.”

Martin blinked, then laughed a little. “It’s-It’s really fine. I can’t say I’m not curious about all this, and with Jon, I get it, lots of stuff going on. Apologies accepted all around.” That earned Martin a grin.

“Good. Don’t want the week to end with you not thinking I’m a delight. The others, you’re free to make your own judgments.”

Martin snorted and looked back at Jon and Tim, who were still going at it. “Do they do this all the time?”

“Well, with this particular topic, Jon is notoriously terrible at dressing for the weather. I think Jon thinks he can handle more than he really does? Or wants to seem like he can? Me and Tim could never tell if he’s doing it out of stubbornness, or just not thinking ahead.” Sasha laughed, her voice full of genuine affection.

“I mean, he’s never been here, right? So I suppose he could’ve, I dunno, seen a bad forecast or misread something,” Martin argued weakly.

“Trust me, he doesn’t need your excuses. He’ll have to accept his low heat retention eventually, and even then he’d just say it was fine. Maybe keep that mug filled so he remembers not everything is supposed to be freezing.” Sasha lightly knocked her elbow into his arm.

The idea squeezed his heart a bit. “Will do, unless Tim’s jokes ruin the taste of tea for him.”

“Hasn’t happened yet! Don’t worry, this’ll be forgotten whenever we get to the next big thing. It’s just how they work.”

“You’ve all worked together for a while then?” Martin asked. “You all seem pretty comfortable around each other.”

“You think so?” Sasha looked back again and caught Tim’s eye. He stuck out his tongue. She smirked and turned back to Martin. “We’ve been on the same research team for a little while now and worked around each other for even longer. Jon being our boss is still pretty new. I don’t think he’s sure what to do with the idea.”

“He seems… stressed on principle?” Martin offered. “He also said something about a project that all of this took him away from, so I can’t imagine that’s helping anything.”

“Yeah, he has his own pet research on top of our other work. Couldn’t tell you what it is though,” Sasha said, shaking her head. “He keeps anything about that with a tight lid. Not that I haven’t tried.”

Martin’s shoulders slumped. “Ah, okay. I thought you might know…”

“Nope, sorry. Being close coworkers only goes so far. Maybe he’ll tell you if he likes you enough. Me and Tim might be too much of a risk as scientific peers.”

“You think it’s like that?”

“I think this kind of research is hard to get through to peer-reviewed journals. If you have something good, you need to be at least a little paranoid. That’s how I feel, anyway.” Sasha looked back and said, “Can you two hurry it up? We’re almost there.”

Tim and Jon stopped in the middle of their squabbling. Something up ahead caught Tim’s eye. He whistled. “That seems right.”

Their destination was a mansion tucked into the wooded outskirts of town. It was wide and sturdy with looming columns and sloped shingles. Taking in the building’s massive size, it was almost impossible to detect the slight tilt of the structure, but it was enough to make Martin’s eyes go screwy trying to compensate as the path curved up toward the front gate.

The gate swung open as they approached, and standing in the front doorway of the house was a short, very pink man with a pleasant smile. From there, he waved at his guests. “Martin! Peter hadn’t told me anything of your coming. Everything is all right, I hope?”

“Yes, Simon, everything’s fine. I’ve brought some associates of Mr. Bouchard, one of Peter’s beneficiaries. They’d like to speak with you.”

Simon’s grin grew wide. “Of course! Love to have guests. Simon Fairchild, as I’m sure Martin here has told you. Please, come this way.” They followed him inside, where an attendant took their coats. The interior of the home was even more grand, and up the center stairs at the back of the foyer was a large, stunning mural of the sky.

The painting only stopped when the bordering walls forced it to, and even then with reluctance. The variations of blue gave it an incredible depth despite the lack of clouds or celestial bodies. It pulled the eye up and away from the horizon line and, at the bottom left corner, there was a minuscule silhouette of the town, only recognizable for the lighthouse sitting at its edge. It was too small to anchor Martin for long from the expanse that stretched the full length of the wall, but just big enough to give a sense of scale.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Simon asked, noticing Martin’s stare. He continued, leading the group toward the staircase. “While I consider myself in good health, painting something so large nowadays would wreck my wrists, I think. It may not seem like it, but the details do need to be just right or the whole thing doesn’t work.”

Martin nodded in vague understanding and made a pointed effort to not stare at it. If there was any more vertigo sneaking up on him, he wouldn’t fall for it that easily. “It’s really nice. Very, erm, deep.” From behind him, Tim barely choked back a laugh in his throat. Martin smiled sheepishly at the old man. “Sorry, I don’t know much about painting.”

Simon waved his hand as if brushing away a fly. “No need to worry. It seems you’ve got the big picture, and that’s all the compliment I could need.”

He led the four of them up the stairs, past the mural and up another flight, and then another, and another, until finally to their relief they entered some sort of sitting room. The far wall was all glass sliding doors leading out onto a balcony. Simon sat in a comfortable chair facing the doors, and they sat around him. “It’s good to have a view of what inspires you, though I won’t make any of us sit out in the cold. So, tell me, what can I do for you all?”

“Well, Mr. Fairchild,” Sasha began, “We were hoping you could help us. We’re doing some research on the history of this town and of the Lukas family-”

Simon clapped his hands together. “Ah, yes! I’d love to help, though, of course,-” Simon sent a knowing glance toward Martin, who winced. “Peter will owe me a favor for it. I could start with Peter for fun. Plenty of stories of him as a surly young man. Or-”

“Actually, we did have some questions to start, Mr. Fairchild,” Jon said, pulling the equipment bag to himself. “Do we have permission to record this conversation? For archival purposes.”

“Someone is impatient. Simon is fine, and yes, though I hope you’ve brought enough tape.”

Jon scowled and kept his head down as he set up the recorder. “I’m sure we have enough.”

“I’m ready when you are, then.” Simon settled into the back of his chair, interlocking his fingers in front of himself. Once the recorder was set up, Jon turned it on and began.

“First thing’s first, how long have you lived in this town?”

Simon was fairly straightforward in his answers to start. Though not born there, Simon was a long-time resident, stretching all the way back to before his substantial wealth accumulation later in life. He’d found inspiration in the locale and decided it would be his home, starting with a small house on the very property where the mansion now sat.

“It’s the way the town sits, you see. From this point, despite how much you may try, you can’t see the ocean, and so once you look past the edge, it’s all sky.” His eyes glassed over, a dreamy look overtaking his face. “I’ve only been able to capture this feeling when on one of Peter’s larger boats on a cloudy night. You would look up and there was nothing above, and there was no light to shine on the sea below. Quite a wonderful experience. To have a home feel that way all the time? I am a lucky man.”

“Have-” Jon tried to say.

“Peter’s lighthouse as well, to an extent. Love to visit the place. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be there so often, but I can only bother Peter so much at a time before he gets touchy.” He gave Martin a conspiratorial wink.

Jon tried again. “Actually, we did want to ask about the-”

“The lighthouse, of course. It was here long before myself, if I’m remembering correctly. I wanted to know all about the thing when I first arrived. Even painted it at some point, though I could never get it quite right. How can a painting capture that sound?”

“Th-”

“And the view from the top! I could look at it for hours, if Peter weren’t so picky about me being there. Martin, you really must ask the man to relax. You put him in a room with one person and he’s so-”

“Do you know who might’ve built the lighthouse, Mr. Fairchild?” Jon raised his voice, and Simon raised his eyebrows in delighted surprise. Jon coughed awkwardly and seemed to calm himself. “Since you were so interested in it, perhaps we could hear about it?”

“Hm, yes, I’m sure you could, though really, I’m not sure you all are asking about it for the right reasons. I told Peter the same, but his family has always owned it, so maybe I’m not one to judge in this matter.” Simon eyed the group. “So, what is it that interests you all about the lighthouse? Historically, I can’t be of much help. Nothing I read was of interest to me, so I forgot it all.”

Tim leaned forward in his chair. “You’ve read other things about it, then? It’s a strange building, and surely you’ve noticed its... idiosyncrasies.”

Simon sat for a moment, pressing his fingertips together. Despite the gentle tone of his voice, his eyes were steel. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

Martin rubbed his thumb into his opposite palm. “I think what Tim is asking is if you’ve read anything about the way it was built. How it looks, it’s not... normal? Like an optical illusion. It doesn’t look right.”

“But it does. Is that not how it should look? The way it always has?” Simon glanced across each of their faces and shrugged. “I don’t see a problem.”

“It made me dizzy looking at it, and not in a metaphorical way,” Tim said.

“Hmm, I’ve never had that experience. Must be a personal problem, and I can’t help with that, unfortunately. I love it as it is, in all of its strangeness, just as I love my little spot over the world. That’s all I can say on the matter, that and my personal experience which has been nothing but lovely.”

Tim struggled to find a response.

Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You said you read about it. Can you at least point us to where you found that kind of information?”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitched. “Not in the public library, I’ll tell you that. The information is out there I’m sure, if you want it that badly. But I can’t help you.” Simon stretched his skinny arms above his head. “Anyway, I believe you wanted to ask about the Lukases. I’d love to discuss them.”

Any other questions they had were drained from the sudden dead end. Simon spoke about Peter and his predilection toward avoiding people. He talked of his business relationship with Peter, and of Simon’s tourism company that often lined up well with the Lukas’ investments in real estate and travel options. The Lukases were an old family, and Simon had lived there long enough for people to forget he was new money. The Fairchilds weren’t even much of a family as they were an interconnected group of people Simon liked to associate with.

Everything past that was more than Martin cared to listen to. Time dragged on to the point where Martin zoned out entirely, and his eyes wandered over to Jon, who had run out of his more energetic irritation from earlier and had settled into a valiant attempt at taking notes about whatever tangent Simon had veered onto. At least he was trying, Martin thought. He let his gaze settle on a piece of hair that dangled in front of Jon’s angular face and imagined how Jon would look if Martin were to reach over and tuck it back into place. Probably weirded out, like Martin now felt after thinking about it.

It was Tim who eventually nudged him back to the present.

Simon looked at the wall clock as it chimed the hour. “It’s been a lovely time chatting, but you all must have quite a lot of work to do before the day is done.”

“Yes, well,” Sasha said, rolling her shoulders. “Thank you for speaking with us. It’s been very helpful.” Martin marveled at how sincere she managed to sound. Jon clicked the recorder off and began to pack it away. Getting up from his chair, Simon nodded to himself.

“I’ll have one of my own see you out, but before that, I’d like to have a word, Martin. It won’t take long.” He gestured for Martin to follow him out the door. Shooting a look at the others that he hoped expressed the horrible feeling in his gut, Martin followed.

They walked three doors down to a room with a small writing desk pushed under a large window, where Simon began to write something on a small piece of paper. Once he had finished, he held it out for Martin to take.

Martin approached with blatant confusion and accepted the note. “What-”

“Some things should remain off-record, I think. And perhaps it would be best if Peter doesn’t know you came here. You’ll have to deal with the burden of owing me a favor, unfortunately.” Simon smiled with his teeth. The paper had an address on it. “Take a look there if your curiosity gets the better of you, and if you stop by, I’d like you to pick something up for me.”

“I... what?”

Simon lowered his voice. “You see, I made the mistake of placing a bet with Peter a long time ago, and I ended up losing something. An old sketchbook of mine, to be exact, with my name written on the inside cover. If you all can get it for me, I’d very much appreciate it. Do be careful with it, though.”

“What-”

“Now, now. I’m done with your questions. You’d do well to keep from asking too many of them. It’s worked for you so far.” From over Simon’s shoulder, the sky seemed to grow past the window frame, folding around his entire field of vision in the deepest blue. Martin felt himself falling with a drop in his stomach, and Simon’s voice grew distant. “Good luck! I look forward to hearing from you.”

The blue was too much, and he blinked.

He opened his eyes and was doubled over, bracing himself against a wall and staring at the hall carpet. The door to the strange little room was shut, and from behind him came several sets of footsteps.

“Martin? Is everything all right?” Jon asked, stepping just into his periphery. “Did something happen?”

Martin groaned. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #simon fairchild #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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